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©tber iRovels 

In z2mo, cloth, $i.oo. ^ 

DAPHNE FRAGOLETTA 

FAUSTINE ADRIAN LYLE 

** Her stories are very gracefully and touchingly 
told. Here and there are gleam of acute and inci- 
sive thinking, always modest, and never pushed to 
the unpleasant ‘preaching’ point .” — Chicago Times, 


V 


A WOMAN IN IT 


A SKETCH OF FEMININE 
MISAD VENTURE 


By “RITA” 

AUTHOR OF *' PEG THE RAKE,” ” DAPHNE,” *' FRAGOLBTTA,” 
“ADRIAN LYLE,” “FAUSTINB,” ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

1895 




Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 


Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.S.A, 


They talk about a Woman's sphere as if it had a limit. 
There's not a place in earth or heaven. 

There's not a task to mankind given. 

There's not a blessing or a woe. 

There's not a whisper — Yes or No, 

There's not a life, or death, or birth. 

That has a feather-weight of worth. 

Without — a Woman in it 1 








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CONTENTS. 


c 


CHAPTER 

Introductory 9 

1. What’s to be Done? ii 

II. The Mirror to Nature 25 

III. ‘‘Sorts and Conditions of Men” . . 36 

IV. Success ! 46 

V. Through the Post 56 

VI. Feminine Sparring 67 

VII. What the Diary says 69 

VIII. Quicksands 75 

IX. Social and Sociable 81 

X. A Storm Brewing 91 

XI. The Storm Bursts 103 

XII. An Interlude 118 

XIII. Artifice 131 

XIV. Feeling the Pulse of Danger .... 137 

XV. Victory 148 

XVI. Pro Bono Publico 158 

XVII. A Rencontre 168 

XVIII. An Awkward Meeting 178 

XIX. Remorse 188 

XX. Truth in a Lie! 201 

XXL A Tangled Web 214 

XXII. A Plunge into Fresh Waters .... 228 

XXIII. Romance versus Reality 239 

XXIV. A Fate in the Balance 250 

XXV. The Diary ends 259 

XXVI. Two Women in It 267 

XXVII. “Yes!” 279 

7 


1 



INTRODUCTORY. 


M 

‘‘ CooMBE Abbot, Devon. 

Dear M , 

** When you first submitted the details of Mrs. Noel 
Grey^s career to me and asked if they would not ‘ work 
into a novel,’ I shook my head at the idea, and declared 
that the world of critics and readers would pronounce 
her impossible.’ But our many talks on the subject 
invested the character with a certain fascination, and 
to those talks and that fascination you are indebted for 
this sketch — as I call it. Her life was a series of mis- 
adventures, and the incidents of her erratic career were 
all more or less unfinished and incomplete. In this lay 
the difficulty of the story. The reading public — so I 
am assured — loves an * ending’ to a book. Well, this 
story does not lend itself to an ending either by matri- 
mony or death — the two most final subjects for a novel. 
But such as it is you have begged me to publish it in 
remembrance of many pleasant talks and discussions that 
certainly bore out the title. There was always a * woman’ 


9 


10 


INTRODUCTORY, 


in them — the woman who lives in these pages clothed in 
modern dress, and as much up to date’ as circumstances 
permit. Whether other people will judge her as chari- 
tably as ourselves remains to be seen, but their apprecia- 
tion — or the reverse — cannot alter our joint indebtedness 
to her and to each other. ' 

‘‘Rita.” 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


CHAPTER I. 

what’s to be done? 

Mrs. Noel Grey was at her wit’s end for 
the hundred and first time in her eventful 
life. 

Unfortunately the frequency of misfortune 
does not ameliorate its unpleasantness, and the 
present heroine of misadventure found memory 
but poor consolation. 

She was reviewing past troubles, and her 
methods of surmounting them, with more 
tendency to hopelessness than mirth, and with 
a capital limited to twenty pounds, an excel- 
lent stock of dresses and a decree nisi staring 
her in the face. 

In fact, Mrs. Noel Grey was the victim of 
adverse fate and a stupid jury. 

The Law has conferred inestimable benefits 
on mankind, but the Law has not yet succeeded 

XI 


12 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


in satisfying applicants for justice that a lost 
case is ever their own fault. Either the judge 
or the jury is to blame. In a question of 
damages the fault embraces the whole legal 
profession. They are deservedly unpopular 
and undeservedly — necessary. 

Mrs. Noel Grey was discoursing on the 
subtle difference between immorality and 
flightiness. The inability to detect this subtle 
difference on the part of twelve honest un- 
adulterating tradesmen had just lost her her 
case. 

‘‘You see, dear,’* she was saying to her 
friend and confidante, Lucretia Gabwell, “ I am 
perfectly innocent. Isn’t it shameful that a 
woman can’t get justice because she’s been 
just a little— a little ” 

“Imprudent?” suggested Miss Gabwell, 
glancing up from a pile of table-cloths she was 
mending. 

“Well — let us say imprudent. I suppose it 
looked like — that, Lutie ?” 

“It looked,” said her friend, uncompromis- 
ingly — “ even a little worse than — that.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey’s fine eyes flashed — then 
grew reproachful. 

“ Et tUy Brute ?” she murmured, drawing 
out a black-bordered handkerchief. She had 


WHAT'S TO BE BONE? 


13 


dressed her Case*' in mourning for two ex- 
cellent reasons. One, a last chance of credit 
at Peter Robinson’s — the other, a desire to 
look interesting before the twelve uncompro- 
mising arbiters of her fate. It had been quite 
useless, and the glories of a banking account 
were eclipsed by the injustice of Law. 

“ I never knew,” she continued plaintively, 
“ how perfectly atrocious quite simple actions 
might be made to look till I heard that awful 
man describe them ! If thaf s the use of legal 
phraseology ’ ’ 

“ It accounts,” murmured Miss Gabwell, 
“ for the success of men who use it.” 

“ Exactly. Oh dear, how unfortunate I am, 
Lutie ! I must have been born under an un- 
lucky star — conjunction of Mars or Venus or 
something ! Marriage is certainly a failure, an 
awful failure. The whole system wants re- 
modelling. Don’t you think so ?” 

Miss Gabwell sighed over a difficult darn 
she was attempting. 

“Well, Nina,” she said slowly, “you see I’m 
hardly in a position to say. I suppose mar- 
riage is a trial — but it is also an opportunity 
for — for ” 

“ Experiments,” said Mrs. Noel Grey, “on 
a man — or men in general ?” 


14 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


** I should fancy you had used it to that end 
after listening to '' 

‘‘Oh, Lutie, for shame ! You know it was 
untrue — every word of it. Whaf s the good 
of an oath ? The witnesses never even 
kissed the greasy old Testament at all, and 
what they gabbled over — do you call 
sacred 

“ No — rather the reverse. But to return to 
our starting point. Do you mean to marry 
D^Arcy?" 

“ I marry him ! Marry that man with the 
worst reputation in London ! Y ou must be 
mad to suggest it 

“Then what are you to do ? You allowed 
him to get you into this scrape.” 

“ That was pure accident. But I don’t mean 
to let him get me out of it in — -in way. 

ril never speak to him again as long as I 
live.” 

Lucretia Gabwell folded up the darned table- 
cloth, and unfolded another. 

“ I can take care of myself,” asserted Mrs. 
Noel Grey. 

“ Which means . . . ?” 

“Well, I’ve always landed on my feet some- 
how. Haven’t I ?” 

Lucretia assented. That was a way Mrs. 


WHATS TO BE DONE? 


15 


Noel Grey had. The lady in question seemed 
suddenly inspired by reminiscences. Miss 
Gabwell listened in silence. 

Mrs. Noel Grey was always entertaining, 
and her recitals had the benefit of a vivid im- 
agination. She was the most delightfully un- 
truthful woman imaginable. She simply could 
not help it. The difficulty of telling a story 
twice in the same manner is always an appre- 
ciable difficulty to the feminine mind. To Mrs. 
Noel Grey it was simply insurmountable. She 
had never been able to conquer it. Now she 
had ceased to make the attempt. 

Her voluble tongue and her picturesque 
embroidering of facts made her conversation 
delightful to people who preferred being enter- 
tained to being instructed, and were not suffi- 
ciently acquainted with Mrs. Noel’s eccen- 
tricities to compare facts with fancies. To 
Lucretia Gabwell, however, these variations 
on an original theme had ceased to be amus- 
ing. She knew the facts — no one better — 
and the fancies were of no importance now. 

She had known Mrs. Noel Grey from her 
school days. Indeed, she had been junior 
English governess when the lovely wild Irish 
girl had entered the prim, well-conducted 
establishment of the Misses Pettigrew, and 


l6 A WOMAN IN it: 

had set everyone by the ears and been in 
more scrapes and escapades than any girl be- 
fore or since her advent. In spite of her 
tricks and insubordination everyone adored 
her, and Lucretia Gabwell no less than 
others. 

The changes and chances of passing years 
had left them friends still, though Lucretia 
was bordering on the debatable ground of old 
maidenhood, and Mrs. Noel Grey had married 
and become the victim of that Law which seems 
made exclusively for jealous husbands and 
misunderstood wives ! 

Lucretia Gabwell had deserted the halls of 
Minerva, and on the strength of a legacy left 
by a distant relative she had established a 
select boarding-house. It was the present 
house of refuge of Mrs. Noel Grey. 

She was only known by that name in the 
establishment. Lucretia Gabwell had sug- 
gested a nom de theatre while the Daily Tele- 
graph and Times were in request, and her 
friend was delighted with the idea and at once 
searched her diary for a suitable title. She 
kept a list of names always on hand for emer- 
gencies. Some were culled from churchyard 
tablets and some from books. At present she 
had selected a compound one from her stock 


WHATS TO BE DONE? 


17 


and passed as Mrs. Noel Grey, a widow from 
South America. 

Fortunately her sumptuous under-linen was 
only initialled, and Nina Garbett stood for 
both letters. Her cards she had destroyed 
when the case had gone against her. Experi- 
ence is a wonderful teacher, even to people 
who are not by nature cautious. 

Want of breath at last compelled Mrs. Noel 
Grey to gasp “ Finis’" to a three-volume novel 
of escapades and ingenuity. She announced 
then for the hundred and second time that 
she was at her wit’s end and must do some- 
thing. 

“Try the Morning Posti' suggested her 
friend. “You might get a hint from the ad- 
vertisements.” 

“ Ah ! — so I might.” She made an impulsive 
dash for the journal. “ What shall I look for, 
Lutie ? Governess — companion — lady help ? 
What sort of thing is a Lady Help? . . um 
. . um . . good musician — governess in a 
small family. Salary £20. Gracious, and I 
used to give my cook £'^^ ! I won’t be a 
governess, Lutie ! Housekeeper to elderly 
gentleman — widower — ;^50. Photo requested 
— unexceptional references on both sides. 
Would that do, Lutie?” 


i8 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Miss Gabwell opined that it might be risky. 

Elderly widowers were sometimes . Well, 

Nina knew the world better than she did. 

Nina supplied the missing adjective, and 
plunged forthwith into an apropos anecdote 
which had a sensational climax of ^500 dam- 
ages paid to muzzle the dogs of scandal. 

“ Do you think I could get ;^500 out of an 
elderly Don Juan?” she asked laughing. “If 
so — Fd run attendant risks.” 

“ It’s scarcely a subject for jests,” said Lu- 
cretia, with an attempt at bygone primness 
redolent of backboards and Minerva House. 

“Perhaps not. I’ll return to the ‘friends in 
need.’ Housekeeper — lady clerk — companion. 
Why — ” with an exclamation of joy, “ the very 
thing, I do declare, Lutie. Listen — isn’t it 
made for me ? ‘ Companion wanted for invalid 

lady in the country. Must be a good musician 
and elocutionist — able to read well. Preference 
given to widow accustomed to good society. 
Would be treated as one of the family. Salary 
;^ioo a year. Unexceptional references.’ ” 

“Well, why don’t you say something?” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Noel, after a moment’s interval. 

Lucretia coughed dryly. “What about the 
— references ?” she asked. 

“Oh, that’s easily managed. You’ll do for 


WHATS TO BE DONE? 


19 


one at all events — the personal one. The 
written one can be faked up as before.’^ 

“I don’t quite understand,” said Lucretia, 
laying down her work. “ I am scarcely in the 
position of an ‘ unexceptional reference.’ The 
owner of a second-rate boarding-house in 
Gower Street ! and I warned you last time 
about letters. They are very risky,” 

“Risky,” mocked Mrs. Noel Grey, with her 
rich full-toned laugh. “ Sure, that’s just what 
makes life ! I don’t care a brass farthing for 
risk. Now, I’ll tell you my idea. You shall 
be a lady with whom I have lived before, but 
you’re breaking up your establishment — in — 
let me see — where shall it be? — Wales — Ire- 
land — Scotland? Scotland, I think, and you 
shall stay at the Langham and see the lady or 
her representative.” 

Lucretia gasped. All previous experi- 
ences of her friend paled before this new au- 
dacity. 

“ What !” she said. 

“You must have a good sounding name,” 
continued Mrs. Noel Grey, ignoring interjec- 
tions. “ I can select one from my note-book. 
Have I a Scotch list, I wonder?” 

She dashed across the room, opened a drawer 
and produced a small leather-covered pocket- 


20 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


book before Miss Gabwell had fully digested 
her previous announcement. 

“ Mackenzie — that’s very national — and safe,” 
she rattled on. “It would sound better hy- 
phenated with something. Let us try a few 
others. Donald — Bruce — Alan? No, that’s 
too genuine. Shetland — ah, that’s good. It 
has a nice, woolly^ old-womanish sound. Mrs. 
Shetland Mackenzie ! My dear, you’re made 
for the name. Your husband was Scotch — 
you needn’t bother about accent. Now for 
local colour ” 

“ I should be sorry to have your imagination, 
Nina,” interposed Lucretia Gabwell. 

“Well, you never could, so you needn’t 
grieve in advance. It’s part of my inheritance, 

I suppose. The Irish do lie so admirably ! 
But where’s a map, Lutie? I must look up 
Glens and Lochs.” 

“ I haven’t a dress fit for the Langham,” said 
Miss Gabwell irrelevantly. 

“ Oh, Scotch women never dress well. But 
I’ll fix you up in my black silk — we’re nearly 
the same height you know ! Black silk and a 
brooch of Scotch pebbles, and there you are. 
Have you got any Scotch pebbles ? I once 
had a Cairngorm brooch, but I don’t know 
what’s become of it. I’ll look it up.” 


WHAT'S TO BE DONE? 


21 


“ Oh Nina, if only you’d not let your tongue 
run on like an express train. You settle 
everything before one has even had time to 
think !” 

“ That’s my energy, you see. The secret of 
success — not that mine’s been much to boast 
of as yet. But I foresee great things. A new 
start may be the turning point, eh, Mrs. Shet- 
land ? . . . I think you ought to have a front 
to complete the part. Old Scotch ladies 
always wear fronts — dark brown with a band 
of velvet ” 

“ If you think I’m going to make a sight of 
myself to please you,” exclaimed Lucretia, 
goaded into speech by the vivid portraiture so 
ably sketched. 

A sight ! Certainly not. You’ll only look 
an unexceptional dowdy, respectable Scotch 
person. I mean Scotch by marriage. But if 
you would throw in an occasional ' verra weel,’ 
or ‘dinna ye ken,’ or bring in that saying 
about a but and a ben’ (Heaven knows what 
it means !) it would be very appropriate. Could 
you manage it?” 

“ Nina Garbett, for goodness’ sake try and 
be sensible for once. This is no joke.” 

I never said it was. I’m most serious. I 
mean to get this situation. It’s just the very 


22 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


thing. I escape from town, and scandal, and 
all the rest of the bother. I sink my identity 
and rise like the Phoenix from my own ashes. 
Mixed metaphors don’t matter to you, dear. 
And who knows — the elderly invalid lady may 
have a son — she must be rich or she couldn’t 
pay ;^ioo a year for a companion. What on 
earth do people want companions for? I’d 
give ^loo a year to be without one sooner 
than with one. Where’s the best ‘ cream-laid,’ 
Lutie ? Oh, dash it ! — your address is on it. 
No matter — it looks respectable. Here goes 
the answer? My handwriting is my strong 
point. That’s one service old Pettigrew did 
me ; and my music — that’ll do. Shall I write 
humbly or the reverse ? . . . The reverse I 
think. Now give me five minutes and it’s 
done.” 

A silent bar. 

“ Listen, Lutie. Will this do ?” enquired the 
writer. 

‘‘Dear Madam, 

“In answer to your advertisement in the 
Morning Post of this date I beg to offer my 
services. Misfortune has reduced me to com- 
parative poverty — but I can truthfully answer 
to every requirement you have demanded. I 


WHAT'S TO BE DONE? 


23 


once held an unexceptional position in Society, 
but, as I said before, misfortune has overtaken 
me and I am compelled to do something for a 
livelihood. The personal reference I can give 
you is that of a lady with whom I have been 
living in Scotland. She has decided upon 
going abroad to join her son, and this has 
necessitated the breaking up of her establish- 
ment ‘ Craig Guthrie' in the Highlands. This 
lady is in town this week and you can see her 
at the Langham Hotel, Portland Place. If you 
desire other references I shall be happy to 
supply them, but I think that of Mrs. Shetland 
Mackenzie will be quite satisfactory. 

“ Awaiting your reply with every hope that 
it may be favourable. 

Believe me, dear Madam, 

‘‘Yours faithfully, 

“Nina Noel Grey. 

“ P.S. I omitted to state that I am a widow. 
I have no family." 

“ Humph !" said Lucretia Gabwell scorn- 
fully. “You’ll never hear any more of it, I’m 
sure." 

“ I bet I v/ill. Here — let’s toss up. Heads, 
I win — lend me that half-crown I saw you put 
in your pocket — one — two — and away. Heads 


24 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


it is ! Hurrah, Lutie ! I believe in luck. . . . 
Where’s my bonnet ? I’m off to post this at 
once !” 

‘‘I’ll trouble you for my half-crown,” said 
Lucretia, trying to stop a whirlwind of skirts 
that rushed past her. “It’s all the change I 
possess.” 

“ What ! give back my luck ?” screamed 
Mrs. Noel. “ No, no, dear ! You don’t know 
an Irish woman.” 

Lucretia groaned. “I wish with all my 
soul I didn’t !” she said, as the door closed. 


CHAPTER 11. 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE. 

Mrs. Noel Grey was the fortunate possessor 
of a temperament that was essentially reckless. 
She absolutely never thought of or cared for 
consequences, and saw most things through 
the rainbow haze of her own chameleon-like 
moods. Daring in thought, act, and speech, 
the marvel was that she had escaped moral 
shipwreck. When very young she had had a 
mad and foolish love affair, which she had con- 
ducted on the principles of “ the world well 
lost.” To be damned by society and the world 
at large, and to lose one’s own soul in the 
whirlpool of passion, had presented itself to 
her as a picturesque and wholly delightful 
sensation. 

A year later she had changed her mind, and 
her lover. 

The venture of marriage had been another 
episode and also another disaster, but the 
cork-like buoyancy of her nature had brought 
her to the surface even after that disaster had 

B 3 25 


26 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


landed her in the Divorce Court. It was to 
her only a misfortune, showing that ill-luck is 
not applicable to cards alone. A law of attrac- 
tion runs through evil. Hence the fatality 
which attends murders and other crimes. 
They tempt repetition and so end in retrib- 
utive justice. Mrs. Noel Grey had been the 
victim of a dec7'ee nisi by some such law of at- 
traction. She had affirmed her innocence and 
lamented with tears the hard and brutal nature 
of man, which will look at the worst side of 
one’s actions and put a vile construction on 
mere “ friskiness.” 

She confessed to the friskiness but resented 
the construction to which it lent itself to a 
court and council of unimpeachable integrity. 
She tried her best to explain the erratic prin- 
ciples on which Irish morals may be grafted, 
but the explanation was not favourably re- 
ceived, and a Judge who had no acquaintance 
with the subtleties of skirt-dancing professed 
to be shocked at a photograph of the defendant 
in very scanty garments and displaying unex- 
ceptionable ankles. It represented her in 
fancy dress at a ball in “gay Paris,” but its 
production in court did not materially assist 
her case. 

British justice would be quite unmoved by 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE. 2 / 

the charms of Phryne in this strictly moral 
nineteenth century. 

Mrs. Noel Grey posed as a victim and felt 
like one during the time she was occupying 
the attention of the Court, and focussing the 
eye-glasses of the barristers. But when the re- 
sult of tears and Peter Robinson’s model Pari- 
sian Mourning had only been the horrible edict 
already stated, indignation had fired her eyes 
and lent her fresh energy for the battle of life. 

It was one curious trait of Mrs. Noel Grey’s 
character that whatever part she assumed she 
played it as seriously as if the acting were real. 
Indeed she was the character to all intents and 
purposes, time. 

At present she almost believed herself to 
be the widow of the divorced Garbett, and her 
feelings respecting the proposed companion- 
ship were so genuine that she would have 
been astonished had anyone made the sugges- 
tion of fraud. 

The scenic part of the play was already 
disposed in her mind. She saw the private 
sitting-room in the Langham, the dignity of 
black silk and Cairngorms, her own imposing 
entrance, her demeanour mournful but com- 
posed, as one who has known sorrow and 
bowed to the stern discipline of many trials. 


28 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


The interview could not but be satisfactory. 
She had the magnetic attraction of the Hiber- 
nian nature, and was irresistible to men and 
women alike when she made up her mind to 
be so. 

If only Lucretia could be trusted ! Poor 
Lucretia, with all the disadvantages of jaded 
spinsterhood and the wear and tear of a board- 
ing-house life; with her careworn brow and 
dull eyes, and nervous restless fingers ! 

She had always been good to Lucretia, had 
helped her with money when she had had it, 
had recommended boarders, and been lavish 
in the matter of cast-off dresses. 

“Lutie’' was such a good soul, though trying. 
She was also a very safe confidante. It would 
have gone hard with Mrs. Noel Grey at more 
than one critical juncture of her life had she 
not possessed a trustworthy friend. Mayfair 
and Bloomsbury are not very far apart, looking 
at the map of London, but they seem as suc- 
cessfully to divide people from the world that 
knows or does 7tot know them, as India or 
South Africa could do. 

Mrs. Noel Grey had dropped like a wounded 
bird Into one district, or flitted like a summer 
butterfly into the other at various times of her 
life. It said much for her that she could play 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE. 29 

both parts with almost equal equanimity. Each 
held amusements and excitements in some 
shape or form. Life to her was a series of 
kaleidoscopic changes. Some of the patterns 
were ugly and bizarrey some enchanting, but 
all had colour and variety. The very restless- 
ness of her temperament lent something vivid 
and exciting to surroundings that other people 
deemed common-place. Nothing was ever 
common-place to Mrs. Noel Grey. She found 
omnibuses and trains quite as amusing as the 
box seat of a four-in-hand, or the landau of a 
Countess. 

She had experienced the advantages of 
both. 

On the whole the landau was less moral than 
the omnibus, and the box seat had been shared 
with a society beauty who had afterwards gone 
on the stage and ruined two or three titles, and 
an infinitude of Guardsmen. 

“ Some day Fll write my reminiscences,” said 
Mrs. Noel Grey to herself, as she was return- 
ing to Gower Street after posting her missive. 
“They’ll shock a good many people, and 
frighten as many more. But they’ll be in- 
structive reading for Mrs. Grundy.” 

She had a righteous horror of that lady. 
She knew her to be quite incapable of under- 
3* 


30 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Standing Irish vagaries, and fond of giving 
disagreeable names to quite innocent actions. 
Whenever Mrs. Noel Grey had been brought 
face to face with that representative female she 
had longed to tear the cap off her head, or 
shake out her false teeth, or stamp on her 
ugly, flat-heeled boots, or tell her in plain 
words how hideous she was and how narrow- 
minded. 

As yet, however, these inclinations had been 
kept under restraint. But those kindred souls 
who knew Mrs. Noel Grey trembled. They 
said it was only a case of Time and the Hour. 
Then, — earthquakes wouldn’t be in it. 

Mrs. Noel Grey possessed unexceptional 
conversational gifts. Words flowed from her 
in a mellifluous stream and with no disadvan- 
tage of halting-places. Gesture and expres- 
sion aided her in effects. Without being posi- 
tively beautiful, her face possessed the great 
charm of expression. It was vivid and full of 
colour. Large flashing eyes that glowed and 
sparkled and were of a curious tawny brown 
with very long up-curled lashes, held men’s 
gaze enthralled, and defied criticism. Her skin 
was of that clear creamy hue that makes blush- 
ing delightful, and mocks at the aid of bismuth 
or carmine. The scarlet of her lips was lovely 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE. 3 1 

by contrast, and spoke of vitality and excellent 
health. So did her tall, supple figure, her 
thick, warm-hued hair that was neither red, 
nor gold, nor brown, but yet seemed a happy 
combination of all. But perhaps Mrs. Noel 
Grey’s strong point was that her beauty stood 
any test. She looked equally well in winter 
or summer, whether walking or riding. The 
roughest wind only sent her rich locks into 
curls and tendrils of delicious untidiness, her 
thick, creamy skin never roughened, her nose 
never got red, and any style of hat, bonnet, or 
gown seemed to suit her. 

It was essentially a useful sort of beauty. 
Made for wear and tear and impervious to al- 
terations of climate or ravages of grief. 

Women envied her when they saw her wash 
her face or disdain curling-tongs. Some were 
ill-natured enough to hint at preparations that 
were warranted to stand one ablution a day, 
but even these never attempted sea-bathing in 
her company. 

To Lucretia Gabwell she had always seemed 
the loveliest woman in the world. She had 
for her that simple adoring worship which one 
feminine soul will sometimes feel for another 
that dominates it. 

There was no doubt about Mrs. Noel Grey’s 


32 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


dominating Lucretia. She had always done so 
from her school-days and would continue to 
do it till the end of Time. The plain, elderly 
spinster marvelled at her, and was completely 
under her sway. She would watch her grace- 
ful gestures, listen to her melodious voice, her 
flow of words, her dramatic recital of her com- 
monplace occurrences, her changeful facial ex- 
pression, and wonder how the sex which united 
them in a common bond of womanhood could 
yet vary the form and detail of that woman- 
hood in such a remarkable degree. 

She had done many things in the course of 
this friendship that were not exactly creditable, 
but her conscience was not troubled on that 
account. 

She had knocked about the world too long, 
and experienced too many vicissitudes to be 
either scrupulous or critical. The battle-field 
of life presented itself to her as a very rough- 
and-tumble sort of place in which you were 
quite entitled to give blow for blow, or aid 
yourself by stratagem if force was of no avail. 

At thirty-five years of age she had become 
somewhat soured and disheartened, but her 
affection for the bright, genial, reckless Irish 
friend was the one bright spot in her expe- 
rience. 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE, 


33 


Even now she was willing to lend herself to 
this last daring scheme, despite its risk. 

When Mrs. Noel Grey returned from post- 
ing her letter she found Lucretia quite ready 
to listen to the plan of campaign. Then the 
black silk was produced and the spare form 
framed in its soft thick folds, the faded fair hair 
deftly arranged, and a successful transforma- 
tion effected by aid of lace and ribbons to make 
her look mature enough to have a son abroad. 

Mrs. Noel Grey seated her on a chair and 
made her rehearse her part. 

“ Do try and keep your hands still !’* she 
exclaimed at last. *^You fidget the whole 
time. Here, you’d better have your knitting. 
Gracious ! ” 

“ What’s the matter now ?” exclaimed Lu- 
cretia nervously. 

Mrs. Noel Grey pointed significantly to the 
third finger of her left hand. “ Your wedding 
ring!” she cried tragically. couldn’t lend 
you mine as I must have one also. What’s to 
be done ?” 

‘‘ Buy one,” suggested Lutie. 

Impossible I It would look too new, and 
not thin enough.” 

“ Couldn’t we try at the Balls ?” suggested 
Lucretia. “ They have all sorts there.” 


34 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


‘‘We must, I suppose. We ought to get an 
old one for five shillings. We’ll go to-night. 
You’ve got your thick veil still, I hope ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you remember the last time ?” and Mrs. 
Noel Grey went off into sudden soft laughter, 
“ and the clergyman in the next box, and how 
he jumped when I said, ‘ Oh Jack ! What will 
your wife say?’ and the way he dodged us 
through the back streets.” 

“Yes; a nice fright you gave me over that. 
I was sure he had tracked us here and that he 
would think we were ” 

“And the way you turned round and said, 
“Sir, go away. We are respectable females. 
If you persist in this persecution I shall speak 
to a policeman !’ Oh, Lutie, I thought you’d 
have been the death of me, your voice was so 
wobbly"' 

She laughed herself into breathlessness. 
Then catching sight of the cap, the black silk, 
and the perturbed expression of the wearer, 
the whole situation flashed before her in that 
light of the ludicrous which always appealed 
to her temperament. Her mirth became hys- 
terical and Lucretia grew alarmed. 

The sound of the luncheon bell, however, 
exercised a wholesome effect on her. She 


THE MIRROR TO NATURE, 


35 


composed herself, readjusted her friend’s toilet 
to the usual shabby cashmere and black silk 
apron, and then hurriedly smoothing her own 
hair followed her down-stairs to the dingy 
dining-room. 


CHAPTER III. 

“SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MEN.'' 

Miss Gabwell sat at the head of the long 
dining-table and surveyed an amplitude of 
white cloth, a cruet-stand, some withered 
ferns, and a cold leg of mutton. 

Her boarders at present consisted of an 
emancipated Hindoo youth studying at Uni- 
versity College, an old young lady journalist, 
who spent most of her time at the British 
Museum, two medical students, a widow with 
a false front and a pension, and a retired naval 
officer. Mrs. Noel Grey always suspected that 
the fair Lucretia had designs on the naval gen- 
tleman. But he himself was not disposed to 
encourage such overtures. The widow lady 
was rather deaf and very short of temper. As 
for the medical students and the Hindoo, they 
were the victims of a hopeless passion for Mrs. 
Noel Grey, and schemed for seats in her 
vicinity with a perseverance and subtlety that 
was of much pecuniary benefit to the maid-of- 
all-work. 

36 


SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MENT 37 

The Hindoo had managed to get the seat 
next her to-day, and greeted her arrival Avith 
that low salaam for which the Oriental is justly 
celebrated. The English language still pos- 
sessed many difficulties for him, but love as- 
sisted him to triumph over them. 

“ Madame has found the day warm. I sigh 
for the cool breeze,’' he said plaintively. 

“ Ah ! you miss the pmikah wallah!' said 
Mrs. Noel Grey genially. She had gathered a 
few words of common use in the Hindustani 
dialect and generally sprinkled them about her 
conversation with Mr. Abdul Khush-hai Beg, 
which was his appellation, though everyone 
called him Mr. Abdul. 

‘'The punkah — it is good — it is excessively 
good — but I mean the hills. Madame does not 
know what that air is — so fine — so pure.” 

“ Oh — I’ve heard about them. 'I know lots 
of — oimem sahibs home , on sick-leave — hus- 
bands in government employ — eh, Mr. Abdul ? 
India must be delightful — for ladies.” 

“ That I might hope, that the honour might 
be graciously vouchsafed to me, an occasion 
for madame’s introspection,” burst forth Abdul 
with reckless eloquence. “Oh! to show her 
my land — its beauty — its treasures — its varie- 
gated charms — its temples and gods. Ah !’' 

4 


38 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


“I shouldn’t mind some of its treasures,” 
said his companion, accepting cold mutton and 
helping herself to salad, made in true English 
fashion, minced lettuce afloat in a miniature 
lake of vinegar. 

“ They would be a world too poor to lay at 
madame’s feet.” 

All the same I’d have no objection to see 
them there,” thought Mrs. Noel Grey, letting 
her imagination fly off to the glories of the 
East, the adoration of Rajahs, and the blissful 
vision of a well-filled jewel-case. 

“ Why didn’t you curry this mutton, Lutie ?” 
she asked suddenly. 

“ Mary Jane can’t make one properly, and 
I hadn’t time to do it myself,” was the reply. 
Then in a lower tone, “ Besides, curry is so 
wasteful. They eat twice as much, and Cap- 
tain Sims likes cold mutton.” 

“The Indian Mutiny began in the year 1857,” 
burst in the deaf widow suddenly, with a vin- 
dictive look at Mr. Abdul, whom she disliked 
excessively. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Noel Grey smiling, “and 
there are mile stones on the Dover Road !” 

The two students guffawed ecstatically, and 
one whispered to the other that she was “ rip- 
pin’ and no mistake.” 


** SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MENT 39 

I was not there then/' said the deaf lady. 
“ But an aunt of mine had a parrot sent her 
and it used to say ‘ Kitmutgar' all day long. 
I suppose it is the Indian form of swearing." 

“ It is not swearing — not at all," said Abdul 
solemnly. It is the name of the attendant, 
what you call waiter, to any lady and gentle- 
man." 

“ And then he moulted and his tail dropped 
out," said the widow. ‘‘That was in '59. She 
had him two years. He was very fond of 
chilies.” 

“ How long before you’ve completed your 
studies?" asked Mrs. Noel Grey of Abdul. 

“One more year. It is the law I go for, 
but being truth-speaking I find it hard." 

“ I expect so," said Mrs. Noel in a choked 
voice. “But if you weren’t truth-speaking 
you might find it easier." 

Abdul considered the point and partook of 
rice pudding. 

“ It is strange all your customs and sport- 
ings," he resumed. “You play crickets and 
tennis in the hot weather. Why not keep 
cool ? It is very mad." 

The students took up the cudgels for their 
country and its eccentricities, and the dispute 
waxed warm. Mrs. Noel Grey leant back in 


40 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


her chair and listened amusedly. The argu- 
ment became general and the deaf lady fired 
off occasional shots at the target of confusion, 
thereby increasing the discomfiture of the Hin- 
doo gentleman. 

Lucretia Gabwell listened to them all with the 
stolid indifference born of many experiences of 
boarders. When they talked they ate less, so 
she raised no objection to disputes on principle. 

However, when the youngest medical stu- 
dent called the Hindoo a ‘d — d nigger* she 
deemed it time to interfere. 

“ Mr. Derryman, I must beg you to moderate 
your language,” she said severely. “ Mr. Ab- 
dul is my guest, like yourself, and whatever 
his creed or complexion, I extend to him the 
same courtesy and hospitality as to the other 
members of this establishment.” 

“I will say no more now,’* cried Abdul, 
rising and making a courteous salaam to his 
fair enslaver. “The noble lady will judge I 
am not to blame. I have not the full organiza- 
tion of the English language yet. I make my 
excuse. When the English lords and ladies 
come to my land we do not mock at their igno- 
rance of our ways.” 

“No, because you’d get jolly well paid out 
for it if you did !” said Mr. Derryman, who 


** SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MENT 4I 

was pugnacious by nature, and a victim to the 
refining influences of Hospital life. 

have the honour to bid madame the 
good day,'' continued Abdul suavely, “ though 
the hours will seem long till I can take my 
seats beside her once again. As for you, sirs" 
— he looked severely at the two young Saw- 
bones — “you have insulted my country and 
my person. I beg you be more precautious 
or there will be assaults and damages, and a 
great avengement. I am of the race of Khush- 
hai and therefore my honour is their regard. 
So be careful lest there be proceedings." 

He left the room and there was a general 
movement, while Lucretia's eyes fell anxiously 
on the “ remnants" with a glance suggestive 
of side-dishes and rechauffes. Then they all 
disappeared with the exception of Mrs. Noel 
Grey and herself. 

“ How you do set everyone by the ears, 
Nina !" she exclaimed angrily. “ They used to 
agree well enough before you came." 

“ It is — it is my fatal beauty," laughed Mrs. 
Noel with a glance at the over-mantel on the 
chimney-piece. “ Shall I help you collect the 
crumbs, Lutie? They’ll come in for fish or 
cutlets, I suppose." 

Lucretia Gabwell’s sallow face flushed 


4 ^ 


42 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


angrily. “You may mock as you please, 
Nina,” she said. “But pray the day won’t 
come when you’ll have to consider the value of 
every sixpence. There is no sin in economy. 
There is in extravagance.” 

“Well, I never could be economical, so I 
don’t intend to try. If I had a place like 
this I’d set it going in the very best style. 
Fashionable neighbourhood, men servants, late 
dinners, weekly assemblies in the drawing- 
room. That’s what people like, not this hum- 
drum shabby-genteel business. I declare, 
Lutie, if I fail in this new venture I’ll go into 
partnership with you and set up a new style 
of boarding-house altogether. I’ll be bound 
it’ll never be empty !” 

“ Of men — I daresay,” said Lucretia grimly. 
“ But the place would be under police super- 
vision before long.” 

“You’re a cold-blooded creature,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Noel Grey. “I only see evil when I wish 
to see it, but you suspect it when it’s only 
playing hide-and-seek with cultured Frailty. I 
trust to my instincts, but you trust to possibili- 
ties explained, and do not know the meaning 
of ‘ extenuating circumstances.’ ” 

“ No — and I do not believe in them either,” 
was the uncompromising retort. 


, ** SORTS AND CONDITIONS OF MENT 43 

“That shows you are small-minded. Now, 
I’m above all such littleness. Nature made me 
on a bounteous scale and I’m obliged to her for 
it. Certainly I’ve had — episodes,” she laughed 
softly. “ But then life without the sparkle of 
excitement is as flat as uncorked champagne. 
I revel in sensations ! They’re the wings that 
lift life from the chariot wheels of Boredom 
and send it flying through space ! I often think 
I’ll go on the stage. There must be endless 
excitement to be got out of that.” 

“ I wonder you haven’t tried it. Acting 
should present no difficulties to you.” 

“That sounds a little spiteful, dear. But 
I’m forgiving, you know ; I couldn’t help being 
charming, even to your Oriental. A man once 
told me I was as good as a pick-me-up. I 
took it as a great compliment. Did you ever 
look upon me as stimulating, Lutie ?” 

“ Stimulants are not the best things to go 
through life upon.” 

“ You wise old Minerva, of course not. But 
he wasn’t going through life with me. He was 
only one of my — episodes.” 

“I’d advise you to drop them now,” said 
Lucretia severely. “ You’ve certainly got into 
your worst fix at last.” 

“ How do you know ? Degrees of compari- 


44 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


son may stretch on to an unlimited extent. 
Besides my ‘ fix,’ as you call it, is not so very 
awful. It will all be over in six months, 
and I’ll give myself decent burial mean- 
time.” 

“ Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll make a fool of 
yourself again and try a second husband.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey laughed. “I don’t know,” 
she said. “ I fancy not. You see I’ve no 
illusions about marriage any longer. It only 
means giving a man who has hitherto been 
your slave, the privilege of being as objection- 
able as he pleases.” 

Her face changed suddenly, her lips set 
themselves in a hard line despite their rosy 
curves. “ When I think,” she said in a low 
quivering voice, “of the brutal things that 
Garbett has said to me, I could — kill him !” 

“ I wouldn’t think of them then,” said her 
friend with wise admonishment. “ Try to save 
the little amount of conscience you have.” 

“ My conscience only concerns myself,” she 
answered. “ It certainly doesn’t object to my 
hating an enemy.” 

“ Or — murdering one ?” 

“ There are many ways of doing that, be- 
sides the dagger or the pistol.” 

“You make me shiver, Nina, when you talk 


**SOj^TS and conditions of me NT 45 

in that cold-blooded way. It’s not like you 
even in your worst moods.” 

She laughed again. No — I believe I’d only 
be impetuous in my desire for vengeance. It 
would never be a premeditated thing. But 
when ‘ my Irish is up,’ as I used to say at 
school, I wouldn’t stick at much, would I, 
Lutie ? How I used to shock you, you poor 
dear!” 

“ I think you keep the art still,” said Lucre- 
tia dryly. 


CHAPTER IV. 


SUCCESS ! 

Suspense might have been trying to Mrs. 
Noel Grey but for a fine taste in millinery 
which led to much overhauling of her ward- 
robe and that employment called alterations/' 
so dear to the feminine heart. 

In the art of dressing Mrs. Noel Grey had 
few rivals. The knowledge how to fix a bow 
or adjust a knot of ribbon has often proved 
more advantageous to a woman than mathe- 
matics. In “ effects” she was especially good, 
having a natural talent for colouring and com- 
binations. With regard to the actual work 
itself, her stitching and hemming and button- 
holing left room for improvement. 

“I really don’t see what you want such 
elaborate evening dresses for,” grumbled Lu- 
cretia half enviously, as she sat in her friend’s 
bedroom one night and watched the transfor- 
mation produced by new draping, or flower 
trimming, on a very lovely gown of daffodil 

46 


SUCCESS! 


47 


coloured silk, which dated its birth from Rus- 
sell & Allen’s and bore their unmistakeable 
stamp of chic, 

“ One never knows,” said Mrs. Noel Grey. 

If the house is good style I must dress for 
dinner.” 

“ That dress is more fit for a duchess than a 
companion — and you forget you’re a widow.” 

“ Oh,^ but I’ve parted with my weeds long 
ago !” said the vivacious Irishwoman. “Of 
course. I’ll wear them at first. Have you seen 
my black tulle — accordion pleats over silk — 
and iridescent sequins? The dernier cri^ I 
assure you. Wait, and I’ll slip into it. I wore 
it for a dinner gown. It looks so beautifully 
simple ... It cost twenty guineas — and isn’t 
paid for yet.” 

While she spoke she had whirled off one 
gown and whirled on another, and now stood 
folding a soft thick sash round her waist while 
the dusky draperies floated like a dark cloud 
round her tall svelte figure. 

“ There !” she cried triumphantly. “ It only 
wants a bunch of roses, or a spray of hibiscus, 
to complete it. Would you like to see me 
dance in it ? It’s as light as gossamer.” 

“ I’d like to see you sensible,” said Lucretia 
Gabwell sternly. 


48 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


“ What’s that — a knock ? Postman I do 
believe.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey looked over the stairs. 
Mary Jane was ascending them slowly and 
attempting to decipher an address on the en- 
velope she held with a corner of her apron. 
She had never learnt to associate “ waiters” 
with the delivery of letters or cards, in spite 
of manifold instructions. 

“Is it for me?” asked Mrs. Noel Grey im- 
patiently. 

Mary Jane stared open-mouthed at a splendid 
vision in black transparencies, and then subsid- 
ing into a grin of admiration handed the missive. 
Mrs. Noel Grey flew back and closed the door. 

“ Post-mark Coombe Abbot,” she cried 
faintly, “Oh, Lutie, it’s come! Here — open 
it, I feel quite faint.” 

She sank down on the nearest chair and 
watched her friend who was scarcely less ex- 
cited than herself. 

“Well — what is it — ^yes or no ? Good God I 
You’re a hundred years taking it in I” 

“ Oh, Nina, it’s yes-—\i the interview is fa- 
vourable; and her — husband — is it? — yes, hus- 
band and his sister Lady — Lady something — 
are to meet your reference at the Langham 
to-morrow the 15th . . at 12 o’clock.” 


SUCCESS/ 


49 


Great Scott ! — what short notice ! You’ll 
have to go there to-night, Lutie, do you hear? 
You must be on the spot. Don’t look so 
dazed. I’ll go with you and settle everything 
— you must take my dress trunk, because it 
doesn’t look well to arrive without luggage. 
Here, wake up, do! What’s the matter?” 

“I don’t like it, Nina — I do not indeed. It’s 
not fair to make me do this. You see you’re 
taking the place on false pretences.” 

“ I’m not. I’m taking it on my own merits, 
and because I’m driven to it. Don’t be so 
squeamish, Lutie — you’ve done worse things 
than this for me. Think of D’Arcy’s supper 
party and helping to hoodwink Garbett. Now 
do not be silly. This is nothing. You’ve only 
to remember you’re Mrs. Shetland Mackenzie 
of — what is the place — oh, Craig-Guthrie. 
That I’ve been with you for two years. Before 
that I was in South America, where my hus- 
band died. As for my accomplishments and 
all that you can answer safely, and I’ll be at 
hand to climax everything.” 

“We’ve forgotten the wedding-ring after 
all,” gasped Lucretia. 

A naughty word escaped Mrs. Noel Grey. 
“You must wear mittens. I’ve heaps ! Come 
now — dress and pull yourself together. Send 

c d 5 


50 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Mary Jane for a bottle of ‘ three star' and 
some soda and you’ll be all right.” 

“What am I to do by myself all night at 
that hotel?” groaned Lucretia, rising and al- 
lowing herself to be gowned in the black silk 
which had been altered to her figure. 

Mrs. Noel Grey paused a moment and con- 
sidered. 

“ I don’t see why I shouldn’t stop there too. 
They’ll be none the wiser. Yes, I’d better. 
You’ll be doing something stupid if I’m not 
at your elbow. I’ll spend the night in coaching 
you.” 

Miss Gabwell’s face did not give the im- 
pression that the prospect was one of unmixed 
joy, but she could no more control the storm 
of Mrs. Noel Grey’s impetuosity than a straw 
can withstand a whirlpool. She was not really 
scrupulous. She feared the results of the 
conspiracy — that was all. However, it was 
scarcely possible to retract now and leave her 
friend in the lurch. 

The chances were in her favour. If they 
secured this situation it meant temporary 
safety, and in all probability future advantages 
over which she would have a claim. Before 
her toilet and packing were complete she was 
quite composed, and the brandy and soda 


SUCCESS! 


51 


which Mrs. Noel Grey administered still fur- 
ther quickened her energies and steadied her 
nerves. 

There still remained the difficulty of ex- 
plaining to her boarders that she had been 
hastily summoned to the sick-bed of a near 
relation and might be away till the following 
day. Mrs. Noel Grey proposed doing this for 
her, and had dashed into the drawing-room, 
made the announcement and labelled the dress 
trunk, while Mary Jane was fetching a cab, and 
her mistress calculating the slices of bread 
and spoonfuls of tea necessary for the next 
morning’s breakfast. 

By this time it was ten o’clock. 

Another five minutes was spent in locking 
drawers and boxes for fear of prying eyes. 
Then Mrs. Noel Grey put her last twenty 
pounds and the “ three stars” into her dress- 
ing bag, her quietest bonnet on her head, 
and they left Gower Street and were driven 
to the more aristocratic region of Portland 
Place. 

Mrs. Shetland Mackenzie sat in a small 
private sitting-room of the Langham Hotel 
busily occupied with knitting, and glancing 
from the note-book on her knee to the clock 


52 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


on the mantel-piece with eyes that looked 
strained and anxious. 

To all appearance she was a middle-aged 
lady of irreproachable demeanour and attire. 
In the bedroom adjoining stood Mrs. Noel 
Grey, dressed in black and very pale. Not 
that she was nervous, only strung up to a pitch 
of excitement such as a race horse might 
experience at sight of his compeers before the 
start. 

It was but three minutes after the appointed 
hour when the door was opened and the names 
of “ Lady Slee” and “ Mr. Oldreeve” an- 
nounced. 

The anxious listener soon found that all was 
going smoothly. Mr. Oldreeve had lived all 
his life in the country. His sister was the 
wife of an engineer who had been knighted 
for some important work. She asked very 
few questions and then requested to know if 
the lady herself could be seen. 

Mrs. Shetland Mackenzie stated that she 
was expecting her to call that very morning, 
and this being the case, Mrs. Noel Grey 
slipped out of the bedroom and entered the 
sitting-room by another door. 

Mr. Oldreeve started when he saw her. 
Lady Slee surveyed her critically, and mentally 


SUCCESS! 


53 


summed her up as far too handsome for the 
post. But no possible objection could be raised 
in presence of a veritable duchess so far as 
manners, breeding, and knowledge of society 
went. Mr. Oldreeve was a handsome, florid 
man of about forty-five years of age, and with 
more knowledge of horses and dogs than of 
women. It seemed to him that this fair and 
gracious and accomplished being was doing 
him and his wife an inestimable favour in ac- 
cepting such a position. He felt ashamed of 
his sister’s persistent questioning, and when the 
announcement that Mrs. Oldreeve was passion- 
ately fond of music brought a simple proposal 
to play to them, followed by a dreamy delicious 
nocturne of Chopin’s and then a waltz, he was 
utterly subjugated. He felt he had offered far 
too small a salary and pondered secretly on 
presents that might be an equivalent for addi- 
tional terms. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Noel Grey was in her ele- 
ment. The scene was “going” beautifully, and 
she felt she was making a good impression. 
She was far too keen-sighted not to detect the 
warm light of admiration kindling in the man’s 
absorbed eyes, but she knew the woman was 
the one with whom she had to deal and — 
sorely against the grain — she ignored the 
5 * 


54 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


more attractive bait, and set herself to win the 
favour of a severe critic. 

Lady Slee asked a great many questions, 
but Mrs. Noel Grey proved a second ^^dipus 
to her sphinx-like capacity for “posers” and 
came out triumphant from the ordeal. 

Finally Mr. Oldreeve took up his parable 
and declared himself perfectly satisfied on his 
wife’s behalf and proposed to seal the bargain 
on the spot. When could Mrs. Grey come 
down to them ? 

That lady after brief meditation proposed 
the following Monday. This was Thursday. 

Mr. Oldreeve then wrote out her trains, 
changes and details of the journey — promised 
the carriage should meet her at Coombe 
Abbot station, and rose to terminate the inter- 
view. 

As the door closed the two confederates 
looked at each other. Lucretia Gabwell’s face 
was very pale. She gave a gasp and the 
knitting dropped unheeded on the floor. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” she said in a stifled 
voice. 

“Afraid? What on earth of? It’s gone 
off splendidly. Nothing could be better.” 

She drew herself up and then walked across 
the room. Lucretia’s eyes followed the figure 


SUCCESS/ 


55 


in its dusky draperies and easy seductive 
grace. How easy life seemed to be for a 
woman who was beautiful ! 

“ It was disgracefully simple/’ continued 
Mrs. Noel Grey, pausing before the looking- 
glass. “ I needn’t have been nervous. I 
thought you’d have spoilt everything — once,” 
and she flashed round on her friend, ‘'when 
you stammered so over your son’s profession. 
I wonder how it is there’s always one weak 
point in one’s armour. I believed I had pre- 
pared for everything and then that cropped 
up. However, it’s all right. Now to settle 
up here, and then hey presto^ Exit — Mrs. Shet- 
land Mackenzie !” 

She rang the bell and asked for the bill, 
which she scrutinized anxiously. 

“ You may thank me for a good ten shillings 
saved in brandies and sodas,” she remarked, 
as the waiter disappeared with a ^5 note on 
a salver. “ Now mind, the cab is to be directed 
Victoria Station and go there. I’ll leave the 
box in the cloak room and call for it another 
time. We can’t run the risk of being tracked, 
and with all due respect to Lady Slee she’s a 
cat! I distrust her and she does not like me !” 


CHAPTER V. 


THROUGH THE POST. 

From Mrs, Noel Grey to Lucretia GabwelL 

Hillside, 

CooMBE Abbot, 

South Devon, July 3rd. 


'‘Dear Lutie, 

“All’s well that ends well, and here I am 
safe and sound and quite at home. I’ve waited 
three days in order to give you some informa- 
tion respecting my situation, as the slaveys 
call it. To begin with, the journey was awful. 
Hot — dusty — tiresome, and the changes were 
so arranged that as one train came in, it saw 
the other going out, and waits extending from 
three-quarters of an hour to an hour were a 
common occurrence. However, I arrived at 
Hillside in due time, and very charming it is. 
Mrs. Oldreeve is somewhat trying, but he is 
delightful. She is one of those nervous, mor- 
bid-minded persons who make life a misery 
for all their friends. I have a suspicion that 
56 


THROUGH THE POST. 


57 


morphia or — something else — is her real com- 
plaint, but I can’t be sure yet. They seem 
very well off and have no children. Every- 
thing is in excellent style and I have a charm- 
ing room, furnished as bed and sitting-room. 
The view is magnificent. If I get any influ- 
ence over Mrs. O. I’m all right. But I’m not 
sure of my ground yet. She must have been 
pretty, but is now dependent on ‘make up’ 
and a French maid — a hateful creature who 
seems to have her mistress wholly in her 
power! She’ll have to be bribed or ousted 
out of position, I foresee. 

“ Mrs. O. was inclined to be suspicious at 
first. Ah, Lutie I women can forgive anything 
in their sex but good looks, and when beauty 
and misfortunes go hand-in-hand there’s al- 
ways jealousy and spite to face them I But 
I’m not going to inflict you with moral axioms. 
Far from it. I’ll go back to Jasper Oldreeve. 
Horrid name, Jasper — I always associate it 
with poison and murder and horrors. I do 
not know why, but I do. He is one of those 
trustful, good-tempered, easily-got-round men 
who are made for women to tyrannize over, or 
to fool. His wife has done the first for twelve 
years of married life. I wonder if it remains 
for your humble servant to do the last. If 


58 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


only he were not rich ! But he is — and I want 
money, above all things. What’s the saying 
about ^ the fool and his wealth’ ? — Mark the 
application, Lutie, my dear. The man is in a 
fair way to fall in love with me — and a weak 
man in love is more difficult to manage than a 
strong man. And the wife is jealous. Here’s 
the beginning of a drama for you. Can you 
supply the parts after this outline of plot? 
However, most good prospects have their 
ugly spot, and I must make the best of 
him ! 

“I’ll write again soon when I’ve felt my 
ground. 

“Yours ever, 

“ Nina.” 

From Lucretia Gabwell to Mrs. Noel Grey, 

13 1, Gower St. 

London. 

“ Oh Nina ! Nina ! For Heaven’s sake be 
careful. Remember you’re not out of the fire 
yet. You hiow you can’t afford a scandal so 
soon after your case. Why not content your- 
self with making friends with the wife, and 
leaving the husband alone? What do you 
expect — what have you to gain ? Only fresh 
trouble and worry. The reckless way you 


THROUGH THE POST 


59 


go on frightens me. I can’t always save you 
from the results of your own imprudence. 
You never listen to advice, but for once be 
guided by common sense. Do what you were 
engaged to do. Be a companion and nothing 
more. Believe me, in six months’ time you’ll 
thank me for the warning. You’re supersti- 
tious. Well, I’ve had a horrible dream about 
you, I can’t get it out of my head. Only let 
me pray of you, for your own sake and mine, 
be careful. 

Yours ever, 

“ Lucretia.” 

Mrs, Noel Grey to Lucretia GabwelL 

July 1 2th. 

‘‘ You old goose ! What is the use of cack- 
ling about nothing ? As for your dreams — I 
wonder how many times I’ve heard them and 
been asked to regard them in the light of a 
warning ! Do you suppose I can’t take care 
of myself, and do you fancy for a mojnent that 
I’m a sentimental fool ready to be caught in 
the trap of a man’s weakness ! My dear, if 
I’ve nothing else to thank life for, I thank it 
for experience. You say I’m reckless. Well, 
so I am. But I know when to give myself a 
free rein and when to put on the curb. Now, 


6o 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


as Fm in a communicative mood, Fll give you 
the history of Hillside up to date. So prepare 
to be shocked till further notice. 

“ Mrs. Oldreeve seems to have taken quite 
a fancy to me. I play to her by the hour 
— write her letters, and have completed the 
conquest by doing her hair (precious little 
there is left of it) in a new and becoming style 
which makes her look ten years younger. I 
think she is older than the good Jasper. I 
call him good because she is always sounding 
his praises. 

“ There never was such a husband — so de- 
voted — so generous — so constant ! It’s an odd 
thing, Lutie, but I never yet knew a ‘good 
husband’ who wasn’t bad — on the sly — or who 
didn’t break out in some way at last. I watch 
Mr. Jasper more keenly now and I note he has 
weaknesses — not very creditable ones — though 
excusable. But more of that anon. I’m going 
to give you a description of a dinner-party 
here and a sketch of Coombe Abbot Society. 

“ I was informed by Mrs. Oldreeve that she 
expected me to be present. So I prepared the 
‘ black and sequins,’ and took care that shoes, 
gloves, etc., were irreproachable. English- 
women are proverbially careless about details. 


THROUGH THE POST 6 1 

but I haven’t lived in Paris for nothing! On the 
eventful evening I went to my lady’s chamber 
to enquire for her and report myself. I found 
her — well, decidedly queer — and in an atmos- 
phere of eau de cologne and toilet vinegar, not 
to mention something stronger and French. 
My old suspicions awoke. It is morphia I am 
sure. I and the maid did all we could, but she 
was in a state of collapse, and it was impos- 
sible she could appear. Mr. Jasper came in 
at last, much worried and put out. I put the 
best face on things and suggested an excuse 
for her on the plea of ‘ temporary indisposi- 
tion.’ She might be able to appear in the 
drawing-room later on. He followed me out 
of the room and entreated me to help receive 
the guests I I was astonished. I attempted 
excuses. My position, etc. He would hear 
nothing. Took my hand-.— was tenderly per- 
suasive in the ‘ Teach me, Mary, how to woo 
thee’ style, and being dressed 1 thought it a 
pity to be obdurate. Besides, I was curious to 
inspect Coombe Abbot society. So I walked 
into the drawing-room, which en pareiithese I 
had pulled into shape considerably, and which 
with palms and flowers and shaded lamps 
really looked delightful. (D’Arcy had artistic 
tastes — there’s no doubt about it — and I’ve 
6 


62 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


always been an apt pupil.) On the stroke of 
seven they began to arrive. First, Sir Thomas 
and Lady Wargrave of the Hall (the mag- 
nates of Coombe Abbot), then Dr. and Mrs. 
Buckleigh - Doone (leading medical practi- 
tioner), Mr., Mrs., and Miss Morton-Beere 
(rich — plain — stupid), Mr. Septimus Babberley 
(young — soft — High Church), Miss Babberley 
(prim — stuck-up — ultra- religious), Mr. and 
Mrs. Enderleigh (fox-hunting — jolly — and roll- 
ing in money). Jack Enderleigh (only son — 
delightful), Mrs. and Miss Clackbury (the 
greatest scandal-mongers in the place). Rev. 
Merton-Crawford and his wife (aristocratic — 
pompous — bland — and self-important), and two 
elderly gentlemen who seemed to have no spe- 
cialty beyond devotion to the table. 

“ Into this assemblage sweeps your insig- 
nificant Nina with the composure of a duchess 
and the confidence born of a faultless toilette. 

“ How the women sniffed and how the men 
looked ! 

“‘Mrs. Noel Grey — a friend of my wife’s 
. . .’ So spoke Mr. Jasper, red of face and 
flushed of manner. 

“ Cold bows acknowledged the introduction. 
The women surveyed me with that H should 
like to see your certificates’ air, which is so 


THROUGH THE POST. 


63 

•' purely ‘county,’ and serves to convey the wide 
difference between an assured and an ambig- 
uous position. 

“ I took their measures rapidly and with 
the assurance that comes of much ‘ knocking 
about.’ I liked the look of young Enderleigh 
but I was handed over to the Curate. He 
took me in to dinner, but I noted I was well 
in ear-shot of ‘ mine host.’ 

“Oh, Lutie — these appalling English din- 
ners ! So stiff — so formal — so dismal ! To 
me they are truly a weariness of the flesh and 
a scourging of the spirit ! Babberley crossed 
himself before sipping his soup. He was a 
little sallow-faced man, with eyes that never 
met yours, and a coarse mouth and a sancti- 
monious smile — of such is the kingdom of 
Ritualists. I dashed into conversation — asked 
him about services, and rang the changes on 
Matins and Compline and Celebrations. He 
expanded — as a flower to sunshine — and before 
the dessert came on I could see he regarded me 
as one of that crowd of yearning womanhood 
to whom a spiritual spouse promises more 
bliss than an earthly one. 

“ He talked likp an ascetic, but not a true 
ascetic, of the mystical consolations of religion. 
But I could plainly see that for him religion 


64 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


meant only a certain number of forms and 
ceremonies, gorgeous vestments, and an inces- 
sant laudation of the priesthood. He begged 
me to go to early service as a lover entreats 
for a rendezvous, I gave a conditional assent 
with drooped eyelids and a hint of Muties.’ 
He appeared to understand, and our conver- 
sation drifted to the manifold sorrows of life 
and its troublesome obligations. I did a little 
embroidery to the skirts of my past history, 
and he told me with a sigh of sympathy that 
I had indeed been ‘ chastened.’ I quite agreed 
with him. 

“ {EnU'e nouSy Lutie, I can hardly recognize 
that past myself, now. It has undergone so 
many changes.) 

‘‘ I noticed one thing. In spite of his re- 
ligious mania and ultra ritualistic tendencies, 
the vicar himself never took any notice of his 
curate. I hear they are at daggers drawn. 
How characteristic of Christianity ! 

“Well, the dinner ended at last. The 
women looked hot and greasy, and most noses 
were red. But nature has been kind to me. 
Besides, I never dine in tight corsets ! , , In 
the* drawing-room we fouod Mrs. Oldreeve. 
She had recovered but was (to an experienced 
eye) decidedly queer still. I was asked to play. 


THROUGH THE POST, 


65 

It was preferable to talking to those deadly 
dull dowagers, or prim Miss Babs, so I gave 
them Chopin and Grieg which they didn't un- 
derstand, and sang ‘Then you'll remember 
me' which they did, (and I expect will^ 

“ The men came in at the end and were en- 
raptured. Babs hinted at my ‘ delightful organ' 
being used in the services of the Church. I 
made up for the slow first half of the evening 
by a rattling flirtation for the second. I'm 
sure Miss Babs was savage. I believe I had 
accaparid her man, but I was too desperate 
to care. He gave me the carte du pays of the 
county. It was great fun. I drew myself up 
at last, remembering Mrs. Jasper. But she was 
in an owl-like condition by now, and paying no 
attention to anyone. 

“Lady Wargrave was rather rude to me. 
Perhaps Mrs. Oldreeve had let out I was only 
the ‘ companion.' How terribly afraid English- 
women seem of losing their dignity by showing 
even ordinary politeness to anyone holding an 
inferior position, I wonder if they expect to 
be labelled in Heaven ! There's no doubt 
Irish people do understand good manners and 
will take as much trouble to be charming to a 
governess as to a duchess — a fisherman as to 
a Lord Mayor ! . . . I must say, however, the 

e 6 * 


66 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Enderleighs were very nice, and gave me quite 
a warm invitation to come over there with or 
without Mrs. Jasper. Of course I was one of 
the Boynes of Dunboyne, one of the best Irish 
families, and they understood ‘ pecuniary losses' 
in a liberal manner, and pitied my misfortunes. 
Well, enough of ‘Squireens' and squiresses. 
I must close these interesting records. How 
are all friends at Gower Street ? Do you still, 
have to dose Abdul and the Sawbones with 
Dr. Watts, or do they keep the peace now 
I've taken my departure ? Don't write me any 
more lectures and for goodness' sake give up 
your Joseph tendency for dreams. 

“ Yours, 

“ Nina." 


CHAPTER VI. 


FEMININE SPARRING. 

From Lucretia Gabwell to Mrs, Noel Grey. 

London. 

‘^Dearest Nina. 

‘‘ Pm awfully hard up. Most of the board- 
ers have left — the rent is due, and the *gas’ 
has called for the last time. Can you send 
me f20? Borrow it from the^^^>^ Jasper — 
or one of your admirers. I must have some 
help. 

“ Your troubled and wretched, 

“ Lucretia.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey to Lucretia Gabwell. 

“ Can only manage a fiver. Try the family 
plate. Jack Enderleigh is madly in love with 
me. 

“ Yours in haste, 

“ Nina.” 

From Lucretia Gabwell to Mrs. Noel Grey. 

“ Your letter is heartless and five pounds 
was very little use. It barely saved the gas. 

67 


68 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


But of course you’re up to your ears in another 
silly flirtation and won’t trouble your feather 
head about anything else. I know you, Nina, 
and I must say a more selfish person it has 
never been my lot to meet. Look how I’ve 
helped you again and again, and what thanks 
do I get ! The moment I’ve set you on your 
feet I’m forgotten — or shoved aside until you 
need me again. You owe me £20 and I must 
have it. Surely you can forestall your salary 
or manage it somehow. If I wasn’t quite 
desperate I wouldn’t ask you. 

** Yours, 

“Lucretia.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey to Lucretia GabwelL 

“You old nuisance ! I carCt — and that’s all 
about it. For Heaven’s sake don’t worry me 
or ni do something desperate. I’m up to my 
ears in worry and vexation. Mrs. Oldreeve is 
very ill — not expected to live. What chance 
for me as No. 2 ? Eh? 


Nina.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


WHAT THE DIARY SAYS, 

CooMBE Abbot, July 28th. 

** Fve always said I wouldn’t keep another 
diary since the production in Court of that 
celebrated one which lost me my case. But 
as I never kept a resolution yet, it’s not very 
surprising that I’m breaking this among hun- 
dreds of others. 

Besides, it’s necessary now for me to keep 
notes of my life and surroundings, for many 
reasons — and habit is a hard taskmaster so I’m 
back again at my old employment. 

“ How deadly dull the country is ! I’m sure 
it’s answerable for many sins, in spite of what 
poets say about Nature and Innocence. Here 
am I driving a three-in-hand coach (of men) 
and embarked in a desperate flirtation with 
and all out of the dulness and want of occu- 
pation that seem inseparable from fields and 
‘ Songsters of the Grove.’ 

“Let me classify my victims for my own 
satisfaction. Jasper Oldreeve, dangerous — 

69 


70 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Jack Enderleigh, fascinating — and Babs — poor, 
soft, silly Babs — sublimized spooniness ! Na- 
ture surely made a mistake about Babs. He 
ought to have been a woman — one of those 
women to whom religion is as exciting as 
dram-drinking. He has invited me to a ser- 
vice of his own, next Sunday evening. I 
think I shall go, in spite of Miss Babs’ sour 
looks and unresponsive aspect. 


Sunday night. 

Of all manias with which poor mortality is 
afflicted, surely religious mania is at once the 
saddest and most hopeless. 

“The self-important, self-conscious bigotry 
of Babs is almost ludicrous when I reflect upon 
it. To see the poor little fool to-day stoled 
and vestmented and coquetting with the rubric 
was a sight to make angels weep, supposing 
that any celestial being would trouble its head 
(or spirit) about such nonsense as his service. 
He conducted it on a novel plan of his own, 
which served to adjust the balance between 
what a congregation might endure, and a priest 
(save the mark) might venture. 

“ The Church of St. Aloysius is small and 
lavishly fitted up in the improved ritualistic 
fashion. Stained glass windows showed the 


WHAT THE DIARY SAYS, 71 

usual impossible figures in the usual impossible 
attitudes, and appealed to my sense of artistic 
fitness as they generally do. Soft lights — 
incense — full-toned organ chants — flowers — 
vestments — all these ‘means to an end' de- 
lighted the senses of a congregation (largely 
feminine) and announced the importance of the 
officiating zealot. 

“ It was some Saint’s Eve — or Festival — and 
as the Vicar was absent, Babs had the whole 
service to himself. He seemed in an ecstatic 
frame of responsibility all the time, and his 
little figure looked absolutely gorgeous in a 
magnificent pontiff-like garment of crimson and 
gold that flowed around him and swept off 
such minor articles as choir-books and anthem 
parts in his passage to and fro. 

“When he ascended the pulpit, I confess 
to a feeling of curiosity as to how he would 
preach. But he merely read out a discourse 
which, even to my seasoned ears, savoured 
somewhat of indelicacy. It was on the subject 
of Spiritual Love, and he held forth on it with 
the fervour of a sensualist, and the hypocrisy 
of a priest. The mysteries of Marriage as an 
ordinance were also discussed with a glow and 
fervour only possible to a novice. It was plain 
to me that poor Babs had not the faintest idea 


■ yi WOMAN IN IT, 


72 

of what matrimony really meant. If he had 
known it as I know it 

“When he described it as an indissoluble 
contract which no man has either power or 
right to dissolve, I could have laughed in his 
face. I who sat there listening — ^victim of a 
decree nisi not yet two months old ! Certain 
branches of the Law and certain dignitaries 
also, would fare badly in the matter of emolu- 
ments if Babs’ doctrines became universal ! I 
scarcely fancy they will, however, in these en- 
lightened days, when the chivalry of Degraded 
Man is only equalled by the audacity of Modern 
Woman. 

Monday. 

“ Little enough to chronicle in the way of 
events. Coombe Abbot doesn’t seem very 
lively. The only subject for my pen to descant 
upon is the 'good’ Jasper. I imitate his wife’s 
phrase. She always calls him that. In all my 
flirtations hitherto I have carefully avoided 
married men. The double esclandre would be 
too much, even for me, and I don’t stick at 
trifles. But against my better judgment — 
almost against my will — this man draws me on. 

“ He has formed for me one of those blind 
infatuated attachments that sometimes men of 
middle age do form, to their cost. I say that 


WHAT THE DIARY SAYS, 


73 


advisedly. His eyes have that greedy insatiable 
look in them which always means danger. 
When he speaks to me his colour comes and 
goes like a girl's. He stammers and is con- 
fused. His hand trembles and his eye sinks. 
He avoids speaking of his wife, or else openly 
hints at her state of health rendering her a 
merely nominal helpmate whose loss would 
not grieve him very deeply. 

‘‘ Danger lurks in every hour of our grow- 
ing intimacy, for Mrs. Oldreeve is frantically 
jealous and the servants are all her spies — 
particularly the French maid. 

‘‘ However, risk always appeals to my dare- 
devil temperament, and I cannot help enjoying 
the situation, 

** Now I come to the third and last of my 
admirers. Jack Enderleigh. What can I say 
of him ? Oh ! to be young, free and pastless. 
I’ve coined the word for the occasion. At 
seventeen how I could have loved him ! Bah 
— love again ! Haven’t I had enough of it 
— seen enough of the mischief it works, the 
madness it sows — the misery it leaves as its 
only lasting gift ? Haven’t I played fast and 
loose with life and honour often enough? . . . 

‘‘But with Jack I forget all. I am — almost 
— ^what he thinks me. His boyish adoring 


74 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


heart is at my mercy. He believes in me so 
thoroughly, poor boy — for boy he is in com- 
parison with me, though four-and-twenty and 
thirty are not so far removed in actual years. 
But I’ve some conscience left, I suppose, for I 
do try to warn him off and will never listen to 
any attempt at love-making from his lips. . . . 
He is one of the very, very few men I’ve ever 
felt I should care to kiss. Women like myself 
are horribly fastidious. Men never think so — 
but we are. I shudder at the ‘good Jasper’s’ 
touch — I simply loathe Babs’ tepid hand-grasp 
and pale smile and the simmering adoration in 
his small ferret eyes — but Jack ! 

“ Good Heavens ! What folly is this. And 
I’m not even free to think of any man — sup- 
posing that I was idiot enough to let myself 
do so after this last scandal. What would 
Lutie say ! W ell, as we’ve quarrelled for the 
nine hundred and ninety-ninth time in our 
lives. I’m not likely to confide in her. Besides 
she hasn’t an ounce of sentiment in her whole 
nature. The ‘ world well lost for love’ and — 
Jack — wouldn’t appeal to her except as a first 
class recommendation for a lunatic asylum.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


QUICKSANDS. 

August 4th. 

‘Hf my worthy employer persist in her 
morphic tendencies she will assuredly kill her- 
self. 

How one wonders at the deliberate mad- 
ness with which men and women at times give 
way to vices which they know tend to certain 
death ! 

“ This woman makes me shudder when I 
look at her. 

She frightened us all last night and Fve 
not had an hour's rest. I wonder how she 
gets the stuff? Rosalie must have some hand 
in it, I feel sure. To see her under its influ- 
ence is an awful sight. Worse than if she 
drank, and I’ve seen women bad enough at 
that ! 

Sometimes she is all amiability to me — at 
others a perfect fiend. Her insinuations be- 
come most insulting, but I bear them with the 
resignation of — necessity. I cannot afford to 
be thin-skinned at present. If I could 


75 


76 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


**The good Jasper appreciates my martyr- 
dom and is all sympathy. He is also lavish in 
the matter of dry champagne. (The gods are 
kind to me still.) 

“ Babs hints that my trials may win me the 
‘Victor’s Crown/ and Jack Enderleigh’s eyes 
tell me that he would make up for all I suffer 
did I but relax my guard. Two months of 
the six are almost over. If I were free once 
more 

“No! No! . . . No more matrimonial 
nooses for me. Good God ! How I ought to 
hate men ! 

August 5th. 

“ Poor old Lutie ! She’s still sulking. Now 
I never bear malice — long. I can even at 
times forgive my enemies though I’ve never 
quite brought myself up to the point of ‘ pray- 
ing for those who despitefully use me.’ Has 
any mortal being ever dissected the impossi- 
bilities of the Church Catechism ? Query for 
Babs. . . . But as I was saying, Lutie still 
sulks and I’m driven to confide in my diary 
from sheer necessity of talking to someone or 
something. 

“ As I was roaming about the grounds this 
morning I met Jasper Oldreeve, of course by 
accident — at least on my part. , 


QUICKSANDS. 


77 


** ‘You look pale and worried/ he said ten- 
derly. ‘Have you anything on your mind?^ 
(I thought ‘ If he knew the burden of a cause 
cilebre — ) but I only smiled sadly and said, 
some troublesome creditor had been worrying 
me for a bill and could not be brought to un- 
derstand he must wait for three months till 
I received my salary. ‘And I have such a 
horror of debt,’ I added piteously. 

“He looked at me. His lips trembled. His 
eyes were bloodshot. (What on earth is there 
in a woman to make a man feel like that !) 

“ ‘ Let me help you,’ he entreated. ‘ It would 
be a privilege, an honour ; indeed it would. 
Place me as your creditor instead of this 
shopkeeper. I can promise’ — (with an ardent 
glance) — ‘that I won’t be a hard one.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, won’t you, if you have the chance,’ I 
thought. Needless to say I did not express 
myself to that effect. One is trained to make 
language conceal thought as well as express it. 

“ I fluttered about the subject like an uncer- 
tain bird, now resting on the twig, now flying 
off a short distance hesitating, trembling. 

“ ‘ It is so much/ I said, ‘ Fifty pounds — half 
my salary.’ 

“ ‘ Is that all !’ he exclaimed gleefully. ‘ I’ll 
go in and write you a cheque at once.’ 

7 * 


78 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


I called myself a fool for not making it a 
hundred, but then, one never knows whether 
a strange fish will bite or evade the bait. 

“ He entered the house and I sauntered on 
wondering what on earth had possessed me to 
ask for money. I only wanted to send poor 
old Lutie her ten pounds and I would have 
forty for myself which — at present — I did not 
need. And I had put myself under an obli- 
gation to this man. One of my foolish im- 
pulses again. 

He came back with a cheque for 
payable to bearer, and I was obliged to let him 
kiss my hand as a reward for his generosity. 

“If wives only knew how their lords and 
masters go on behind their backs! Well — I 
could tell a pretty few stories about married 
men did I choose. However, Mr. Jasper and 
I roamed about for another half-hour, the main 
facts of the interview being his repeated in- 
junctions to me to look upon him as a friend 
andv apply to him in any trouble or dilemma. 
Of course I agreed. Just as if I had not 
repeatedly proved the worth and meaning of 
a man’s friendship — for a pretty woman. 

“ When I returned to the house I was in- 
formed Mrs. Oldreeve had been asking for 


QUICKSANDS, 


79 


me. I went at once to her boudoir and found 
her in a specially disagreeable frame of mind. 
I also had the pleasure of writing an invitation 
to Lady Slee — at her dictation — asking her 
on a visit for two months. I shall have to 
mind my P’s and Q’s when that worthy lady 
is on the ground. So will Mr. Jasper. Mrs. 
O. seems suddenly to have pulled herself up 
and is trying to keep from the morphia. She 
looks awful. Not all the ‘make-up’ in the 
world can hide the ravages of time and her 
sad failing. The quivering eyelids, the dim 
eye, the dull-hued skin, the trembling hand — 
what a tale they tell! No wonder her hus- 
band’s shuddering glance turns from her to 
me in grateful wonder. 

“ He is but a man I 


August 8th. 

“ Lady Slee is coming on Monday. 

“ There is some great local function to be 
held on the next afternoon — a Flower Show 
to which the elite of Coombe Abbot will flock. 
It is held annually in the grounds of some rich 
parvenusy who rejoice in the aristocratic name 
of Smith. 

“As Coombe Abbot is essentially a county 
of hyphenated names, they call themselves the 


8o 


A WOMAN IN IT 


Major-Smiths — out of compliment to prevail- 
ing fashion. They are comparatively ancestor- 
less, but a large amount of shares in Smith’s 
Pottery Works has an eloquent meaning for 
the neighbourhood, and accounts for mansion, 
carriages, and fortune — to everyone’s satis- 
faction. 

The Wargraves’ place is not so fine or half 
so imposing, but then they are not interested 
in Drain Pipes and Glaze, and have only been 
common landed proprietors for a couple of 
centuries. 

‘‘ I hear they conscientiously snub the Major- 
Smiths and never patronize their entertain- 
ments. There are two Miss Major-Smiths — 
one fair and plump, one dark and lanky. As 
yet they have not shown any marked individu- 
ality, being constantly shadowed by ‘ Mamma,’ 
who quite carries out her military title by the 
discipline she maintains in her own household. 

“But these are all on dits. I shall draw 
my own conclusions when I have seen them. 

Babs is to grace the festivity — so is Jack 
Enderleigh. 

“I have a vision of foulard and a Paris 
bonnet as I await the day.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


SOCIAL AND SOCIABLE. 

Lucretia Gabwell to Mrs. Noel Grey. 

August 7th. 

‘‘Dearest and kindest Nina, 

“ Forgive your poor old friend and remem- 
ber only that she really was at her wit’s end 
what to do for money and beset on all sides 
by cares and worries. A thousand thanks for 
your help. I felt sure you would not desert 
me! Your letter was very short. I only 
gather from it that you are still very comfort- 
able at Coombe Abbot and — as usual — have a 
court of admirers round you. I never knew 
such a woman. The men seem as if they 
couldnt help falling in love with you. Oh, my 
dear, it's all very well to talk of beauty being 
only skin-deep, but it strikes me men don’t 
ask for anything deeper ! 

“ Talking of skins I’ve something to tell you. 
I’ve a new boarder : such a queer woman. At 
first I couldn’t make her out at all, but now I’ve 
discovered she keeps a toilet repository for 
ladies and gentlemen. I’ve got into her con- 


82 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


fidence, and oh, my dear, the things she tells 
me ! And the men are just as vain and silly 
as the women, with their rouge and hair-dyes 
and moustache darkeners and the Lord only 
knows what. You should see the letters she 
gets ! . . . 

“ Do you know Fve a great mind to go into 
partnership with her. It would pay much better 
than boarders. The only thing is Fm not very 
good-looking. She wants a woman, wholl ad- 
vertise her washes and stuffs by a natural com- 
plexion. Aren't they frauds? And yet she 
makes hundreds out of the business. I couldn’t 
help thinking how well you would have suited 
her with your beautiful skin and hair and figure 
— (she even has Bust Lotions, my dear — and 
she says if I only saw the skinny old hags that 
come to her for * improvers’ I’d have fits !) 
What do you say to my joining her ? Fve the 
good will and fixtures here to dispose of, and I 
might raise a little money somehow. She only 
wants £200 put into the concern. Don’t think 
Fm hinting, dearest Nina. Fm not, indeed. 
Your ;^20 has helped me out of my present 
difficulty. 

The young Hindoo Abdul has come back 
to me. I wonder if he’d be good for a loan ? 
Oh, why haven’t I your persuasive powers, 


SOCIAL AND SOCIABLE. ; 83 

Nina ? Well, enough for the present. Tell 
me all about your garden-party, and ^ray be 
careful of the married men ! 

Yours ever, 

“ Lutie.’’ 

Mrs. Noel Grey to Lucretia Gabwell. 

August 9th. 

Dear old goose ! 

“Stick to your business and don’t go ex- 
perimenting in complexions and hair-dyes — 
and wicked old men trying to ape youth and 
vigour. Haven’t I always told you they’re 
every bit as bad as women ? I’d like to know 
your new boarder. She must have some 
funny experiences to relate. However, you 
can get them for me and I’ll take them sec- 
ond-hand — or third to be more correct. 

“ That hateful old cat. Lady Slee, is here — 
and I cannot call my soul my own now — she’s 
always putting Mrs. Oldreeve on my track 
and keeping me up to what she calls ‘my 
duties.’ Duties be d — d. Well, I’m in a rage 
and I’d love to say something wicked — even 
on paper . . . 

“ This place evidently agrees with me, I’m 
looking ten years younger, and have such a 
colour, better than all your Toilet friend’s 


84 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


rouge or washes. Tve been reflecting on 
what you said. The truth is Fm getting sick 
of this life. I can’t stand being lectured and 
ordered about, and the Slee woman is an 
abomination. Besides, between us and the 
post, my dear, Pm getting a bit frightened of 
the good Jasper! You know me, and you 
know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean even 
more than the words. When he looks at me 
with that red glare in his eyes I feel positively 
sick. There is something about him that Fve 
never seen in any man |before, even in the 
desperate stages. Love makes brutes of some 
men, and angels of others. It is not hard to 
classify the good Jasper ! 

“ Oh ! the misery of being a woman — some- 
times ! I’m tired and heart-sick to-night, Lutie ; 
my one feeling is to get away from this place 
before — before anything happens ! I don’t 
know what I expect to happen — I don’t know 
even why I fancy anything should happen — 
but a horrid foreboding is upon me. Once 

before I felt it. It was before D’Arcy . 

Good Heavens ! what am I writing in this 
morbid strain for ? I must be overtired after 
the Flower Show this afternoon. I’ll finish my 
letter to-morrow and give you a description 
of the Major-Smiths. 


SOCIAL AND SOCIABLE. 85 

“ May the Powers that Be send me sleep, or 
I don’t know what will become of me ! 

August loth. I woke this morning after 
six hours of deep dreamless sleep, feeling a 
new creature and as if I hadn’t a care in the 
world. 

“ As it still wants half-an-hour to breakfast- 
time I will fill up the remaining pages of my 
letter with a description of the Major-Smiths’ 
Flower Show. 

“There were flags and banners and occa- 
sional blasts of music from the Coombe Abbot 
Yeomanry band. There was a big tent filled 
with plants, peaches, and potatoes, labelled i st 
Prize — or 3d Prize as the case might be, and 
a small tent with ginger beer and lemonade 
bottles and dry, stubbly-looking buns by way 
of refreshment. On the grass promenaded 
the guests. If their position was equal to 
their number they must have been very select. 
I counted thirty women and three men, one of 
whom was the everlasting cleric, without whose 
presence no country function seems complete. 
The Major-Smiths are not popular I was told, 
at least Mrs. Major isn’t. She is terribly 
afraid of what she calls ‘ lowering her dignity.’ 
So she is rude on principle to everyone who 


86 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


is not as well off as herself. The best people 
all snub her, so the poor soul has only this 
form of retaliation left. She quite ignored me 
though papa Major looked somewhat as if he 
would not have objected to an introduction. 
I overheard her say once, ' Oh, that’s only the 
companion of that dreadful Mrs. Oldreeve. I 
don’t know why she came here at all . . . and 
so over-dressed !’ 

I chuckled. Did I not know that she was 
dying of envy at the cut and style of my gown 
— and that everyone in the place wondered 
how anything so simple as foulard could yet 
be so chic? Mrs. Major-Smith completed her 
illustration of good manners by inviting some 
dozen people into the house for tea, leaving 
the others to the ginger-beer tent, or to nothing 
at all ! When I tell you she had three footmen 
to serve the tea and carry the bread-and-butter 
and cake on Sheffield salvers, I have said all 
that is necessary. While this ceremony was 
going on Babs arrived, and, needless to say, 
made straight for me. Being the fourth man 
there he was much ogled and entreated, but I 
wouldn’t let him go. My hour had come. 
Presently I saw our host bearing down upon 
us, from the lawn. He had been sent by the 
gorgon to invite Babs in to tea. A pressure 


SOCIAL AND SOCIABLE. 87 

of my hand on his arm stayed his first words 
of acceptance. 

“ ‘ / prefer to stay out here/ I remarked, 
and Fm sure you wouldn’t desert me, Mr. 
Babberley.’ 

** ‘ Mrs. — er — Noel Grey,’ stammered Babs, 
introducing me. 

I bowed. Papa Major grew red and apol- 
ogetic. ‘Would I honour them also?’ 

“ I declined. I didn’t care for tea, I said. 

“A pause followed. Poor Papa fidgeted 
and grew more nervous. ‘And — er — Mr. 
Babberley?’ he stammered. 

“ ‘ Thanks — no — not this afternoon,’ said 
Babs, intoningly. ‘ Another time . . . the 
pleasure — ah — er ’ 

“ Papa Major shuffled off. I laughed softly. 
‘ What odd people !’ I said. ‘ They ought to 
take lessons in manners.’ 

“ Babs hinted blushingly that it wasn’t every- 
body who had — ‘ ah — er ’ 

“I shook my head protestingly. ‘It’s an 
Irish inheritance,’ I said. ‘ We have something 
to be thankful for, you see.’ 

“‘Much,’ he said, clerically. ‘Much, dear 
lady. Your beauty, your wit, your charm — 
alas ! how subtly sweetly dangerous, and yet 
how — ah — er ’ 


88 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


' Exactly/ I said. ‘ You express it beauti- 
fully. Here are Mrs. Oldreeve and Lady 
Slee. I wonder if they have had enough of 
this. I have.' 

‘‘They had had enough of it. We turned 
our backs on Sheffield plate and footmen with- 
out further delay. 

“ Life here seems a perpetual conundrum to 
which I’m always asking ‘Why?’ and giving 
it up. 

“All country towns have peculiarities. 
Coombe Abbot is not an exception. It has 
two conspicuous virtues. They are cliqueish- 
ness and ‘ scandal.’ Society moves in sets, in 
small sets — but scandal does not. It is uni- 
versal. It is the breath of life to all persons 
who are not too poor to indulge in it — the 
poor of course who have their pleasures meas- 
ured out to them by local boards, and district 
visitors. 

“ The paucity of men in the place leads one 
to speculate on the unattractiveness of women. 
The married men are rarely seen with their 
wives — the unmarried are rarely seen at all. 
The High Church party won’t know the Low 
Church, and the poor Roman Catholics of the 
place are comparatively ostracized. Religion 


SOCIAL AND SOCIABLE, 89 

is always remarkable for its bountiful preju- 
dices. So I observed to Babs, and he quite 
agreed with me. 

“Yesterday we had a visitor in the shape of 
the doctor’s wife. She is a lady of artistic 
tastes which are exemplified by a yellow draw- 
ing-room and an elaborate complexion that 
always looks best in a subdued light. Her 
conversation consisted of details respecting 
her neighbours’ actions and modes of life. The 
details might have been more charitable, they 
were certainly — amusing. I felt the interesting 
fictions of the Peerage had a formidable rival 
in the Coombe Abbot pedigrees. 

“ A hint of mine at the ‘ School for Scandal^ 
being the most suitable revival for some forth- 
coming Private Theatricals seemed to offend 
this lady. She cut short her visit with some 
display of temper. 

“ Among the ‘ Sets’ is one mainly composed 
of women — in very good positions too — who 
are renowned for a weakness for — ^well, not to 
put too fine a point on it — ' Soda — with some- 
thing — ’. If the ‘ something’ occasionally coun- 
teracts the good effects of the soda, that is a 
mere incident — remarkable, of course, but of 
frequent occurrence. A leading light conde- 
8 * 


90 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


scends to air her particular weakness at the 
bar of the principal hotel. Well, my dear 
Lutie, we are only good and bad by compari- 
son — but I think even in our worst day we 
drew the line at a — bar. If I live here long I 
shall begin to consider myself a woman of the 
last chapter of Proverbs type ! 

I hear the breakfast bell. Good-bye for 
the present. 

** Yours, 

Nina.*' 


CHAPTER X. 


A STORM BREWING. 

Extracts from the Diary, 

** August has taken her departure ; Sep- 
tember, her genial-tempered sister, is here 
again, breathing gentle hints of change. The 
whirr of firing and crack of guns speak elo- 
quently of men’s employment, and dinner par- 
ties are a common, instead of rare, occurrence. 
Hillside is quite full of visitors, but the onus 
of their entertainment falls on me, for Mrs. 
Oldreeve is again very ill. There are no 
women invited, for that reason. Jasper looks 
pale and anxious, and goes about the house in 
a nervous and preoccupied manner. There is 
a furtive look in his eyes that I don’t like. 
They used to be so frank and open ! 

‘‘Babs has proposed! Yes — actually the 
High Church principles and their sworn ser- 
vant have been offered for my acceptance, and 
I — only laughed at him I 

“ He was hurt and very much inclined to 

91 


92 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


be nasty at first, but I have smoothed him 
over. Jack Enderleigh is here very often. He 
is a first-rate shot .... Of late I have some- 
what avoided him. I am afraid, he is more in 
earnest than any of them and I don’t want to 
hurt his feelings. It would be unjust to lead 
him on, delightful as he is. I am becoming 
almost virtuous in my scruples, I — who thought 
I had neither heart nor conscience left! I 
wonder — Oh, dear I What a lot of tempta- 
tions there are in the world for women I 

“ The French maid came to me this morning 
after the sportsmen had left. 

‘ I like not the looks of Madame,’ she said 
uneasily. ‘ She lies in so heavy a stupor we 
cannot arouse her. I should like that you 
pay her a visit and advise if to send for the 
doctor.’ 

“ I rose rather reluctantly from the piano. 
I was just in the mood for Chopin. However, 
I went up to Madame’s bedroom as desired. 
The blinds were drawn as usual. The lace 
curtains lined with rose-colour to suit the poor 
vain creature’s complexion were partially drawn 
aside. She lay back on the pillow with closed 
eyes. Her face looked grey and drawn and 
she breathed heavily. I was alarmed. ‘ How 


A STORM BREWING. 


93 


long has she been like this?* I exclaimed. 
‘ You had better send at once for the doctor.* 

“ ‘ I found her so when I entered the cham- 
ber/ exclaimed the maid. ‘ She didn’t ring as 
of custom. I wait and wait and wait. ... At 
last I enter through the little dressing-room 
which communicates with the chamber of Mon- 
sieur. I find her — so' 

** The expressive gesture said all. I looked 
at the table by the bedside. The night lamp 
had burnt itself out. Beside it stood a small 
bottle. I knew it well. I turned to the maid. 
‘Surely/ I said, ‘you did not leave that beside 
her all night ?* 

non — certainement ; I put it away 
and locked the medicine chest after I have 
given the drops.* 

“ Again I bent over the unconscious woman 
and touched her hand. The clenched fingers 
clasped something. I opened them with diffi- 
culty and found they held the little needle 
which is used for giving injections. A cry of 
horror escaped me. There was no need of 
words to explain. The story told itself with a 
significance only too terrible. 

“We tried all ordinary methods to rouse 
her but our efforts were useless. The grey 
face grew more deathly, the rigid form more 


94 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


rigid. Before the doctor came we knew it was 
hopeless, she was dead ! 


“When I feel it is incumbent on me to faint 
I can always do so. 

“ I did it on this occasion, while messengers 
were being despatched in all directions for the 
good Jasper. Needless to say I did not see 
him. I heard he was greatly shocked and 
looked ‘ terrible white.' That was the way the 
servants expressed the newly-made widower’s 
grief. 

“ I suppose I shall have to leave here now 
or all the Grundys of the place will be up in 
arms. Oh dear ! how unfortunate I am ! . . . 

“ A long melancholy day has given place to 
a long melancholy evening. My spirits have 
sunk to zero. Mr. Jasper has been shut up 
in his library the whole day. No one has seen 
him. The men have all left. The house is 
as dismal as a churchyard and the quiet and 
gloom of it all is getting on my nerves. 

I have written to Lutie to tell her of the 
catastrophe and telegraphed to Lady Slee at 
Jasper’s request. Old cat ! I suppose she’ll 
be down on us to-morrow, playing ^maitresse 


A STORM BREWING, 


95 


de la maisorC to her heart’s content and my 
discomfiture. 

Midnight. 

“An hour ago I was just thinking of retiring 
to rest. Now all thought of sleep or peace of 
mind is effectually banished. Good Heavens ! 
Was there ever such ill-luck as mine ! While 
the scene is fresh in my mind I’ll commit it to 
paper. 

“ I had slipped into a dressing-gown and an 
easy chair and was engaged on Zola’s '‘La 
Cur^d for the third time of reading, when I 
heard a knock at the door. At my permission 
to enter there appeared M’mselle Rosalie, the 
French maid. 

“She came in softly and with an air of 
mystery that I did not like. Her scintillating 
green eyes shone strangely in her white face. 
Her black hair was as neatly arranged, her 
figure as trimly corsetted as ever — ^and yet the 
woman looked different. 

“ ‘ What is it, Rosalie ?’ I asked, putting 
down my book and surveying her with some 
surprise. 

“ H have heard there will be more of this,’ 
she answered, nodding her head in the direc- 
tion of that room. * Enquiry — official en- 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


96 

quiry — ^what you call inquest on the body. I 
shall have to speak all then that is of my 
knowledge.* 

‘ An Inquest !* — I started up and looked at 
the woman in sudden horror. ‘ Who says 
so? . . . What’s it for? I don’t believe it! 
The doctor knew her habits for years ... he 
knew she had died from an over-dose of mor- 
phia. What more is there to say ? ’ 

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘ Y ou English 
have strange customs,’ she said. ‘The Habeas 
Corpus — the Coroner’s jury quest. I know not 
all what. The death is not natural, that is what 
they say. . . Why did she poison herself?' 

“ ‘ By accident, I suppose,’ I said. 

“She shook her sleek black head. *Mais 
non ... it was not an accident. She was mad 
— jealous — unhappy, she did it — of purpose.’ 

“I stared at the woman. ‘Jealous . . of 
whom — what — how do you know ?’ 

“‘I know,’ she answered, turning up her 
small eyes and nodding emphatically. ‘ It was 
of you and Monsieur Oldreeve 1’ 

“Every drop of blood seemed to rush to 
my face in a torrent of indignation. I sprang 
to my feet. ‘ How dare you say such a thing I’ 
I cried furiously. ‘ It is infamous, it is a lie 1 
I will tell your master of your insolence.’ 


A STORM BREWING. 


97 


“‘Tell him all what you please — and I — 
I shall tell the Coroner what I know — what 
Madame has said to me often times. How 
she hated you, how you and Monsieur were 
always together ! How the neighbours wink 
ze eye and whisper — ma foi, yes ! And you 
pretend to so grieve for Madame. You scream 
and faint when you see her lying dead. . . Ah 
you act it well — but I know — I see — it is not 
— not grief, it is not the real faint. Yes . . . 
tell my master. I care not. I lose my place — 
it is through you — I have never like you — 
I say always it is a bad day when you come 
here, making the mischief between Monsieur 
and Madame, and now look ! Behold, you 
have done it — and I — I have no friends, no 
home ! I am r-ruined !’ 

“ She rolled her r's and flashed her eyes in 
a manner that made me shudder. She was 
the enraged soubrette of the French stage to 
the life in her jealous spite — her blind rage, 
her envy and vindictiveness. 

“ I sat down once more and tried to reason 
myself into coolness. 

“ ‘ Rosalie,' I said impressively, ‘ why should 
we be enemies ? I have never done anything 
to offend you that I’m aware of.' I slipped 
my hand into my pocket as I spoke and drew 

E ^ 9 


98 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


out my purse, * Look here/ I went on, pro- 
ducing a five-pound note. ‘ If you state what 
you have just told me at the inquest you will 
only make a scandal and do no good. It has 
nothing to do with the case. I never made 
any mischief between Mr. Oldreeve and his 
wife — to my knowledge — and I never dreamt 
that she was jealous of me. I swear it’ 

“I handed the note to her in a friendly 
fashion. She took it, and for a moment her 
features seemed to relax. Her hand fastened 
on it greedily and the lids drooped over the 
spiteful green eyes. Then suddenly she 
changed again — crumpled the note into a ball 
and threw it contemptuously at my feet. 

* I desire not your bribes,’ she said with 
affected contempt. Ht shall be said nevare 
that I, Rosalie Brunet — took money to betray 
my poor dear mistress that is no more, from 
one whom she hate of all her heart. Mon 
DieUy non. I say it shall not be.’ 

‘‘ ‘Very well,’ I said coolly, ‘my word is as 
good as yours. I shall say you raised this 
report because I would not give you hush- 
money. Your master at least will believe me !” 

^ My master P There is no power in the 
written words to express the meaning she put 
into them. Contempt, fury, baffled passion. 


A STORM B REIVING. 


99 


‘ “A light burst upon me, a light born of 
some suspicion and some knowledge of the 
good Jasper’s little ways. Had there been 
something between him and this woman? 
Was her hatred of me not without reason ? 

“I left the note where it had fallen and 
studied the woman attentively. She was not 
good-looking, but she possessed a fine figure 
and had a certain air of diablerie that might 
have been fascinating — to a man. 

* My master . she went on when she 
could find breath and language once more. 
‘Yes — a fine Master — hein. I could say some 
things — many things of Monsieur Oldreeve 
did I choose. You are well matched ... he 
and you.’ 

“‘You will oblige me by restraining your 
insolence,’ I said, ‘and by leaving my room. 
I have no wish to hear more.’ 

“ ‘ But I have more I choose to tell. Yes. It 
is not for nothing you come here. You have 
reason. You have the past. Eh . . Oh, yes, 
I know. I can see with both my eyes, I am not 
deceive. My Lady Slee she suspect you always, 
only that Monsieur he was a fool, — and you 
have the face to cheat men ! — Monsieur Babber- 
ley and Monsieur Enderleigh, par exemple. 
You are a pretty fair lady, n'est-ce pas?' 


100 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


“‘Will you leave the room,* I said chok- 
ingly, ‘ or shall I ring and have you turned 
out ?’ 

“‘Turned out! . . . Ring the bell — many 
bells, in effect all the bells ! What I care ? I 
tell the whole house. It shall be common talk. 
I drive you away, even I . . . who am nobody 
now since you throw dust in his eyes. Fool . . . 
I say it again — fool ! — and yet again — fool ! 
fool 1 fool r 

“‘My good woman,* I said coolly, ‘if you 
think I’m going to listen to your abuse any 
longer you are vastly mistaken. Either you 
tell me rationally what was your reason for 
seeking this interview, or I shall summon your 
master here and acquaint him with all you 
have said.* 

“ And quick as thought I crossed the room, 
locked the door and put the key in my pocket. 
Then I took my stand by the bell-rope and 
waited. 

“ For a moment she measured me from top 
to toe with half-shut gleaming eyes. I expected 
her to spring at me, but apparently she thought 
better of a first feline intention, and so stood, 
her hands clenched, her foot in its neat shoe 
tapping impatiently on the floor. 

“ ‘ I have said my say,* she hissed in a sibilant. 


A STORM BREWING. 


101 


hoarse voice. ‘The rest it shall be for the 
Coroner's jury-quest.' 

‘T laughed contemptuously. T think,' I 
said, ‘you'll find you will be the fool then. 
What about your own doings with Mr. Old- 
reeve? Would you care to have them shown 
up ? It looks more probable that j/ou had an 
object in getting rid of your mistress than any- 
one else. Perhaps you thought Mr. Oldreeve 
might marry you if he were free ?' 

“It was an arrow at a venture, but she 
turned a sickly grey hue, though she tried to 
laugh it off. ‘ Mon Dieu, it is a droll idea that 
— he marry me ! My faith, no ! but the idea is 
not bad.' 

“ ‘ You have had it yourself and expected to 
realize it,' I went on. ‘ It will make a pretty 
story for the Coroner, and you will look — not 
quite so proud of yourself perhaps. Now have 
you any more to say ?' 

“More! Yes, she had much more, plenty 
more, in effect a volume, but she would not 
say it then — to-night. She would wait. She 
knew who would get the best of it. So with 
many shrugs and nods and a tigerish gleam 
of eyes and teeth, and a hissing warning to 
‘ beware' ; she hated me and she never for- 
gave — she would prove who was strongest 
9 * 


102 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Then I unlocked the door and she went out 
with a parting glance eloquent of animosity. 

I sat down spent and trembling now the 
battle was over. The woman’s threats had 
opened a pitfall before my feet. I could not 
afford another scandal — so soon. 

‘‘ As soon as I had collected my senses and 
calmed down I wrote the account of this inter- 
view in my diary for my own edification. There 
is no disguising the fact that this creature’s 
spite can place me in a very awkward position. 
The more I think of it the more troubled I 
become. Lady Slee, too, is no friend of mine, 
and will probably lend a willing ear to any 
stories against me. The fact of having Mr. 
Oldreeve on my side is no advantage when I 
have to deal with two spiteful women. I almost 
wish now I had tried to conciliate the French 
maid during the time I have been at Hillside. 
But then — a woman who looks on another 
woman as a rival cannot be won over. . . . 
Well, there’s nothing for it but to face the 
matter boldly. I have had disagreeable tasks 
to perform before now. Let me trust my Irish 
pluck to come to the rescue — and win over 
even Mrs. Grundy and a Coroner’s jury at the 
back of her.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE STORM BURSTS. 

‘‘The Coroner’s Inquest was a more serious 
affair than I feared. That I came out of it 
decently is certainly due to my nationality 
alone. I won them over at once. I am con- 
strained to say, however, that the good Jasper 
made an awful fool of himself. 

“His agitation, the way he contradicted 
himself, the utter absence of anything like 
manly calmness and decision, made me feel 
inclined to shake him. That hateful French 
woman certainly hinted all she dared, but what 
with her broken English, the plain fact of her 
own culpable negligence, and the British jury- 
man’s invincible objection to foreigners, she did 
no harm to anyone but herself. As for me I 
had thought out every part and played it per- 
fectly. I was faultlessly dressed in simple 
black. I was calm and composed, and I gave 
direct answers to every question and never 
made unnecessary statements. When the 
French maid lost her head and spluttered out 
venom with her foolish tongue, the jury simply 

103 


104 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


looked at me and — drew their own conclu- 
sions. However, my mind is made up. I must 
leave Coombe Abbot directly the funeral is 
over. 

The scandal of the affair will be common 
talk and when the tongues here begin to wag 
they do it to some purpose. I cannot risk 
remaining and facing it out even to win Jack 
Enderleigh. Win him! — what am I driving 
at? ... I who am not free to think of any 
man — who risk exposure at every turn I 

I have passed through a furnace of doubt 
and fear and anguish to-day. I am utterly 
broken down now. The verdict was of course 
‘ Accidental Death.' Her habits were too well 
known for any other. If anyone came in for 
blame it was the French maid for leaving the 
medicine case in her way. I can see very 
plainly now that the whole business was open 
to grave suspicion, but she was so unpopular 
and Mr. Oldreeve so very much the reverse, 
that he won all sympathy and everything was 
done to spare him. 

“ And yet to my thinking there was some- 
thing wrong about the man. Hard as was the 
ordeal he had to face, he might have faced it 
with more pluck and courage than he evinced. 


THE STORM BURSTS. 


lOS 

Perhaps I watched him more keenly than 
others. Perhaps — to me — he was not quite 
the upright, honest-hearted individual his fel- 
low-townsmen thought him. 

I had been behind the scenes and I knew — 
what I knew. 

“ I was so worried and upset that I sent to 
the housekeeper to let me have dinner in my 
own room, and begged the favour of a pint 
of champagne which duly appeared. 

“ The funeral will take place the day after 
to-morrow. Then I shall leave Coombe Abbot 
with certainly very little regret, though what 
Pm to do next Heaven knows ! 

“A singular feeling of impending disaster 
has fastened upon me to-night. I cannot shake 
it off even with the aid of Pommery Sec ! 

“The presence of that woman, Rosalie, 
seems to haunt me in spite of locked doors. 
I feel as if those green eyes were watching me 
at every turn, that spiteful tongue hissing its 
slanders to every eager listener. 

“She must have a very strong motive to 
hate me so. Am I right in suspecting that 
she looked on me as a rival ? The thought is 
humiliating, but it alone gives any clue to her 
extraordinary conduct. 


I 06 A WOMAN IN IT. 

“ I have another ordeal before me. I must 
see Lady Slee and tell her I intend to leave — 
and ask if I may use Hillside for reference in 
the future. 

‘‘The funeral is over. It was fixed for a 
very early hour and the attendance was very 
small. Lady Slee, myself and Rosalie were 
the only women present. 

“ On our return I asked Lady Slee the ques- 
tion as to reference. To my surprise she drew 
herself up in the most grundyfied manner and 
answered that her knowledge of my qualifica- 
tions was not sufficient to incur such a re- 
sponsibility. 

“I could read between the lines, of course. 
I tried to command my temper and answer 
with indifference. I hope I succeeded. I shall 
have to make use of the ‘ good Jasper' instead. 
Lady Slee had the impertinence also to give 
me some ‘good advice' as she called it. It 
consisted of a patronizing intimation that my 
position in a household was a somewhat deli- 
cate one, and demanded more circumspection 
than I had shown at Hillside. Of course the 
hint was given only in a ‘ friendly and Christian 
spirit.' Disagreeable hints always are — from 
woman. 

“ I answered that I was perfectly well able 


THE STORM BURSTS. 


107 


to take care of my own manners, though it 
was difficult to forget one was a lady and had 
been accustomed to a very different sort of 
society to that of Coombe Abbot. This in 
* caf parlance put her back up. She was good 
enough to inform me that the society here was 
equal, if not superior to any that I might have 
mixed in, in London or abroad. I intimated 
that her opinion was not my experience, and 
that for vulgarity, narrow-mindedness, and ill- 
nature, I would back Coombe Abbot against 
any place of its size and importance in 
England. 

“ * I have heard more scandal in the last 
three months,' I said, ‘ than I would hear in as 
many years in town. The more religious you 
all profess to be, the less you exemplify any 
principle of Christianity.' 

Then there was much bridling. * Dear me ! 
Did I speak from experience ? If so she would 
feel it quite her duty to inform Mr. Babberley 
of my opinions.' 

“ That was the finishing stroke. 

“ ‘ Mr. Babberley knows them perfectly 
well,' I said brusquely. ‘And knowing them 
has done me the honour to offer me his hand.' 

“She almost jumj>ed. 

“ T . . ♦ I can't believe it,' she gasped. 


I 08 A WOMAN IN IT. 

‘He — of all people — and vowed to celibacy 
too. I fear your vanity has misled you.’ 

“ ‘ Not at all/ I said coolly. ‘ You have my 
full permission to ask him whether I did not 
refuse him.’ 

“ ‘ Refuse him !’ she cried incredulously. 

‘‘ ‘Yes. It is a case of neither “flesh, fowl, 
nor good red herring.” A nondescript re- 
ligious maniac is not quite the sort of husband 
I should choose.’ 

“She got crimson with rage and almost 
flounced out of the room. I retired to mine, 
finished some odds and ends of packing, then 
put on my bonnet and mantle and went out 
for a walk. 


Midnight. 

“My last night here! Well, I’m not sorry 
though I could wish Mrs. Oldreeve had not 
been in quite such a hurry to ‘ shuffle off this 
mortal coil.’ Another three months would 
have made all the difference to me. 

“I may as well put down the last events 
that have happened and then close this brief 
record of my first essay at ‘ Companionship.’ 

“ I closed my last entry with the determina- 
tion to walk off my trials and temper — if pos- 
sible. I took the quietest road, avoiding the 


THE STORM BURSTS. 


109 


town of set purpose, and found myself at 
last close to the old Church of Coombe — an 
ivy-covered, tumble-down building of the old 
Norman style, which, as yet, I had only seen 
from a distance. The gate was merely latched. 
I opened it and found myself in the shady, 
peaceful old churchyard, among moss-covered 
headstones and long rank grass and dilapi- 
dated graves, their occupants long forgotten 
— their names almost undecipherable now. 

“ Tired and breathless with my rapid walk 
I sat down to rest. Soon my eyes began to 
wander to the slanting lines of gravestones 
around me. I have a liking for quaint epitaphs 
and uncommon names. I have always found 
country churchyards supply me with both. My 
note-book was in my pocket. I drew it out 
and jotted down a few of those within eyeshot 
of my resting-place. 

Here lies all that was mortal 
Of Arabella Young 
Who on the 25 th of May 
Began to hold her tongue. 

Poor Arabella ! How hard they were on 
you. Were you such a very great talker, I 
wonder ? Who composed this tribute to your 
conversational achievements ? Friend or foe. 


no 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


or some relative who loved you none too 
well, or maybe had suffered at your hands, or, 
rather, lips ? 

'' My eyes wandered further : 

A young maaide here lies 
Crossed in love 

And tooken she to realms above 
But he that crossed her I should say 
Desarves to go t’other waay. 

“Another close beside it announced of 
Martha Jane 

‘‘Across the wold 
The wind did blow 
Her ketched a cold 
What laid her low. 

“A philosophical Benedict had inscribed 
over his wife’s grave that, 

“ Here lies my poor wife 
Much lamented, 

She’s better off, 

And I’m contented I 

“A victim to the medical profession had 
evidently composed his own epitaph in a fit 
of spleen and burst forth into sarcastic de- 
nouncement of their abilities. 

“ If drugs could save 
From dreary grave, 

God wots enough 
I took of stuff. 


THE STORM BURSTS 


in 

But doctors^ skill. 

Or draught and pill, ’ 

Prolonged life’s feast 
Not in the least, 

And here I lies. 

While still they tries 
On other folks 
Their silly jokes. 

Humility itself seemed to breathe in Enoch 
Cudmore’s declaration, 

From nothing I came 
To nothing I’ve fled, 

I can but be *• nothing’ 

Now that I’m dead ! 

“ I was slowly and thoughtfully transcribing 
these lines when I heard the soft rustle of a 
skirt behind me. I glanced round, and to my 
no small disgust perceived Rosalie, the French 
woman. 

‘‘ She was dressed in deep black. The veil 
was thrown back from her bonnet and her 
white face and green eyes looked even more 
malevolent than usual. She stood on a sloping 
bank, rather above me, her figure showed to 
excellent advantage in her well-fitting dress, 
but that something feline^ fierce, untamable 
about her which I have before spoken of, was 
more noticeable than ever. 


II2 


• A WOMAN IN IT. 


For a moment a touch of fear chilled my 
blood. I remembered how lonely this place 
was and wished I had not come so far. I said 
nothing, however, after that one rapid glance, 
but went on with my entries, and waited for 
her to announce herself. 

‘‘With the usual impulsiveness and impa- 
tience of her nation she did so. 

“ ‘ Madame T 

“ I looked up enquiringly, remarked, ‘ Well?' 
and made another entry. 

“ She left her position on the bank, descended 
slowly, every rustle of her gown sending little 
shivers of curious dread through my frame, 
and came and stood opposite — her arms folded 
across her chest, her lips so tightly drawn that 
they looked bloodless. 

“‘I have watched you,' she announced, ‘I 
have given myself the pain to follow you. Ma 
foi^ it is a triste place this, but it will serve. 
You think you have done with me, eh? That 
my threats meant nothing. That you leave 
here to-morrow and all is said and done. Ah, 
but you are droll ! You reckon without your 
costs as your proverb says. I have not done 
with you yet. My faith, no ! You shall hear.' 

“ I rose to my feet and looked at her. ‘ See 
here,^ my good woman,' I said, T have had 


THE STORM B URSTS, 1 1 3 

more than enough of your insolence and your 
absurd threats. If you persist in annoying me 
in this manner I shall just hand you over to 
the police. We shall soon see whether they 
won’t put a stop to it !’ 

‘‘ ' The police ! Ah, that is good . . . that 
is excellent !’ 

“It was in fact so good and so excellent 
that M’mselle Rosalie actually laughed — the 
shrill mirthless laughter usually known in stage 
parlance as ‘ sardonic.’ 

“ ‘ You seem amused,’ I observed as I closed 
the note-book and put it back in my pocket. 
‘ But let me tell you this is no idle threat. No 
one is obliged to put up with slanderous 
threats in this country. There is redress at 
hand, as you may speedily find out for your- 
self.’ 

“ I turned away, and gathered the skirt of 
my dress in one hand preparatory to crossing 
a patch of grass and weeds and nettles. Swift 
as thought she dropped her arms and stood 
before me, barring my way. 

“ ‘ You shall no^ go . . you shall hear ! Do 
you think I have forgot . . do you think be- 
cause those foolish men make game to me 
that I speak not the language quite perfect, 
therefore I am beat of my purpose? I tell 

h 10* 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


114 

you, no ! I have sworn my r-re-venge. I 
shall have it. Rest assured of that. Eh, mon 
Dieu! Yes.’ 

I lost patience then. ^ What on earth do 
you mean?' I exclaimed. ‘Revenge — what 
for ? What have I ever done to you ? You 
have taken some absurd notion into your 
head and are trying to injure me out of sheer 
malice.' 

“‘You are a fraud,^ she went on coolly. 
‘You are a wicked woman. I know you . . I 
have seen you in London with Monsieur 
D'Arcy . . ask him if it is not true. He knows 
me — Rosalie Brunet and he has fear of me. I 
know much. I have my eyes open. I could 
with ease what you call ‘ blow upon you' ; let 
the light in on your little histoires, Ha ! you 
turn pale, you look affraide. Have I not said 
true?' 

“ ‘ It is an infamous lie !' I cried furiously. 
‘ And I advise you not to attempt to repeat it, 
or you'll find yourself in a police court for libel. 
I leave here to-day and shall probably never 
see or hear more of any one in the place. 
Take my advice and keep your tongue in your 
mouth, or it will be worse for you. I'm not 
going to be slandered with impunity, as I have 
said before.' 


THE STORM BURSTS. 


II5 

** She laughed scoffingly. 

‘ Great words ! Big words ! Poufe ! — so 
— I blow zem away. I have no fear of you 
or what you can do. I have you under my 
thumb. Ah, I could say much. . . Madame, 
my poor mistress, she get me to make the en- 
quiries of you. Where is then your reference 
wid the funny name, eh ? — gone — Poufe ! She 
fly away like the thistle-down yonder. Ha ! 
Ha ! I have frighten you at last. It is for 
you to fear the law — not me.' 

I stood there silent and boiling with rage. 
My wits seemed to forsake me. I only saw 
the spiteful face, the grinning mouth, and 
recognized dumbly that I had an enemy, and a 
very formidable one in this creature. 

“In desperation I tried to parley. ‘What 
do you want ?’ I said. ‘ Why are you bent on 
annoying me? I've never done anything to 
you.' 

“ The moment I had said it I felt it was 
foolish. But perplexities were torturing me. 
She saw her opportunity and seized it. 

“‘I make a compact,' she said. ‘You go 
away, you give no address. You do not write 
or see Monsieur Oldreeve^z^^r again. Then — 
I for my part — swear to keep silence of my 
side.' 


Il6 A WOMAN IN IT. 

I smiled contemptuously. ^ As far as Fm 
concerned I never intend to see Mr. Oldreeve 
again. He is nothing to me.' 

“ ‘ Then you promise ?' she cried eagerly. 
‘Silence for silence. You slip away — you see 
him not again, and you leave no address ?’ 

“T shall certainly not “slip" away,' I an- 
swered indignantly. ‘ As if I were a thief or 
a criminal. I shall of course say farewell to 
Mr. Oldreeve and then go off to London as 
arranged. But I promise not to let him know 
where I am — if that will content you.' 

“ She surveyed me thoughtfully under low- 
ered brows for a moment or two. I tingled 
all over at the covert insolence of the look. 
But I knew I was in a fix, and for once let 
discretion get the better of my Irish impulsive- 
ness. 

“ I felt the degradation of submission most 
keenly, but if this creature knew any of my 
past ‘ historiettes' it was better to compromise 
matters at once. I preferred to leave a ‘ clean 
bill of health’ behind me at Coombe Abbot. 
I should like to think I had Jack Enderleigh 
to fall back upon at some future time. 

“ Suddenly she drew a small ivory crucifix 
from her bosom and held it out to me. ‘ Swear 
to me on thaty she cried dramatically. 


THE STORM BURSTS. 


117 


bent my head, remembering that I too 
had been brought up in her faith, baptized into 
her Church. 

* I swear,' I said with faltering voice, and 
my lips touched the sacred symbol. 

‘‘ She drew her black draperies together and 
swept slowly out of the churchyard." 


CHAPTER XII. 


AN INTERLUDE. 

The Diary Continued. 

**I BREATHED freely when the dark figure 
disappeared and I heard the fall of the rusty 
lock as the gate closed. Then I began to re- 
view the scene in my mind. 

“ I felt savage with myself for having been 
trapped into a compact with this creature. I 
wondered how much of my past career she 
really knew. The fact of her last mistress 
having employed her to spy on me was not an 
agreeable discovery. As for what she had 
said about D’Arcy, that did not surprise me. 
His experiences had been vast and his ac- 
quaintances numerous as the sand by the sea. 
He may have fallen across this creature at 
some time or other, and in all probability 
trusted her as — ^well, as he trusted most 
women. 

My reflections at this point were inter- 
rupted by a loud peal of thunder. I started 
and looked up at a darkening sky black with 

iiS 


AN INTERLUDE. 


II9 

clouds above the kindred darkness of cypress 
and yew trees. 

The afternoon had grown late without my 
noticing it — and now a storm was at hand. I 
have a horror of thunder, and the ominous 
look of the sky promised it lavishly even as a 
second and third peal crashed through the 
brooding stillness of the air. 

“ I hurried out of the churchyard. As I 
reached the high road the rain began. Great 
plashing drops that made the protection of my 
poor little silk sunshade worse than useless. I 
was rushing blindly along when I heard some- 
one shouting to me, and looking round saw a 
dog-cart dashing along full speed. 

“It was beside me in a moment and the 
horse was checked with the skill of a practised 
hand. The driver was Jack Enderleigh. 

‘ Let me give you a lift,' he cried, ‘ you'll 
be drenched to the skin in a few minutes in 
this downpour.' 

H? “ Rain — wind — thunder all seemed blended 
in confusion as his voice reached me. I gave 
up the battle with my mimic umbrella, took 
him at his word and climbed into the dog-cart. 
He threw a mackintosh cape over my shoul- 
ders, drew the leather apron over our knees, 
and then let the horse go. 


120 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


What a mad ride that was ! The thunder 
crashed, the rain fell like a blinding stream. 
The inky darkness of the sky was only broken 
from time to time by a lurid gleam of light- 
ning. The trees seemed to race by — and the 
horse plunged excitedly even under the strong 
firm hands that held the reins. 

** As the dog-cart swayed from side to side 
I grasped Jack’s arm. I was not alarmed, but 
that sudden sense of nearness and protection 
was wildly exhilarating. 

His eyes met mine in a brief flash. They 
said more than any words. The blood began 
to race through my veins. That sort of 
‘drunkenness of the senses’ born of danger 
and excitement which is so characteristic of 
my race swept over me as again and again in 
my life it has done — to my cost. 

“The horse flew along the level road, his 
ears laid nervously back from time to time, 
the foam flecking his sides and mouth as he 
strained frantically at the reins. It was one 
of those supreme moments when Life and 
Death seem equally balanced. A trifle — the 
snap of a chain— a weak shaft — a sudden jolt 
— and we might be hurled into Eternity ! 

“Jack spoke but once after that look. 
‘You’re not frightened?' he said. 


AN INTERLUDE. 


I2I 


« < Frightened — ^with you ?’ 

** That was all. Brief words make up life's 
longest histories sometimes. 

'‘To my last hour shall I ever forget that mad 
drive ? That swift electrical glance — that de- 
licious throb of heart and pulse — that waking 
of passion in desperation which means all of 
any worth in life ! 

“ If only I had never known it all before. 
If only I could believe that knowing it again 
brought content to my unrest — stability to my 
inconstant nature. 

“ Faugh / why talk or write of such things ? 
Jack Enderleigh is a million million times too 
good for me. I told him so in that one mo- 
ment of weakness when we stood together 
safe — and happy I think — in the hall at Hill- 
side. 

“ The footman had borne off our dripping 
wraps. Afternoon tea was over. No one 
was there. I removed my hat. In doing so the 
loosened pins that had held my hair dropped 
out. It fell in a great heavy fleece to my 
knees, and, half ashamed, half laughing, I 
turned to him. 

“ His strong arms were round me in a mo- 
ment. I could hear the strong beats of his 

F II 


122 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


heart. ‘You beautiful thing!' he said, and 
suddenly was on his knees kissing my hands 
— my hair — and murmuring all the fond mad 
words a man utters at such times as his senses 
get the better of his reason. 

“ A hoarse cry startled us both. He sprang 
to his feet looking unutterably foolish. At the 
further end of the hall — his face ghostly — his 
eyes red and inflamed — his whole appearance 
expressive of disorder, mental and physical — 
stood the good Jasper I 

“ I have written down all the events of this 
most eventful day with strict accuracy. 

“To give any description of my own feel- 
ings — as an epilogue — would be superfluous. 

“Jasper retreated into the library. Jack 
and I looked foolish. The correct footman 
brought us tea, and Lady Slee arrived promptly 
to play propriety, and utter feminine interjec- 
tions as to the storm and my good fortune in 
meeting a protector. I had hurriedly twisted 
up my hair on her entrance. She was one of 
those women who scent impropriety in dishev- 
elled tresses, or the use of perfumes in your 
bath. 

“ I wished her at Jericho — or further. So, I 
am sure, did Jack. We had no opportunity 
for further confidences, and Lady Slee took 


AN INTERLUDE, 


123 


good care to inform him I was leaving Hill- 
side the next morning — alluding hypocritically 
to what she termed ‘ late unfortunate events/ 
Then she proceeded to hint that she hoped I 
should soon procure another situation (that 
was her expression). 

‘T could have slain her on the spot. In- 
stead, I remarked that my first experiences as 
a companion had not been so agreeable as to 
offer any inducement for their renewal, and 
that I had ‘ other views/ 

‘‘ I scored there for she looked uncomfortable 
and grew very red — remembering no doubt our 
discussion of the morning. 

“ The moment I had finished my tea I left 
them with an excuse that my dress was damp, 
and Jack, not relishing the idea of a tHe-d-tUe 
with this Gorgon, followed my example very 
speedily. 

The good Jasper appeared at dinner look- 
ing white and nervous. I never saw a man so 
altered. He starts at every sound. His colour 
comes and goes, his hands tremble. He is aged 
by ten years since his wife's death. 

I can't imagine why he feels it so much ; 
goodness knows he had no affection for her. 

‘‘Well — enough of Hillside and its tragedy 
and disagreeables. I shall shake the dust 


124 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


of Coombe Abbot off my shoes with great 
pleasure. 

“I — I wonder whether Jack will be at the 
station to see me off to-morrow morning. 

Two days later. 

Ugh ! how I hate poverty ! And poverty 
in London too. It is all so grimy and sordid, 
and gloomy and hateful here after the life and 
luxuries of Coombe Abbot. 

I have not been out of doors since I 
arrived. Lutie was ill and in bad spirits, and 
I had to nurse her, and look after the boarders 
and see to the details of breakfasts and lunch- 
eons and dinners, and all the time I was think- 
ing of Jack's face and hearing Jack’s voice and 
wishing myself back with him a thousand times 
a day. 

And what’s the use of it all ? 

“ What’s the use of my falling in love like a 
schoolgirl of seventeen with a handsome face, 
acharmingmanner,and a man sixyears younger 
than myself! Not that he knows it — or anyone 
else for that matter. My real age is my own 
secret and I intend it to be so. 

I am in one of my worst moods to-day 1 
A bitter, brutal rage with everyone and every- 
thing — with Life altogether. Why has Fate 


AN INTERLUDE, 


125 


singled me out for perpetual troubles and 
annoyances ? Other women with not half my 
looks or accomplishments have all the good 
things of this world at their feet. I . . I alone 
seem swamped by misfortunes, hampered by 
debt and difficulty, destined to live a life of 
shifts and hypocrisy, for ever in want of money, 
and for ever pestered by men. 

“I hate the whole sex to-day! From first 
to last — from my girlhood’s lovers to my 
present suitor I have little to thank them for. 
And yet I am not quite truthful in saying thaty 
for Jack is different. I know that so well, and 
the knowledge makes me ashamed at times. 

‘‘Oh, to be free I My God — better still to 
be what he thinks me. 

“ But neither is possible. I have not written 
to him — yet. I dare not. My pen is more 
apt to be truthful than my lips. My pen might 
betray me. 

“Lutie is better to-day. She came down- 
stairs and went about her household duties 
herself. About twelve o’clock, when I was 
sitting in my room alone indulging my ‘ black 
mood’ to its utmost, and wondering what 
would be the next move on the board, she 
sent a messenger up to ask me to go down 

II* 


126 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


to the drawing-room. A lady wished to see 
me. 

' A lady !’ I repeated to Mary Jane, who 
gave me the message. ^ Is it Lady Slee — did 
you hear the name?’ 

“ Yes ! Mary Jane ^ad heard it. Indeed she 
still had the card in her apron. (Why on 
earth do lodging-house slaveys always answer 
doors or carry letters or cards with one corner 
of their aprons turned up ? Is it from a humil- 
iating consciousness of dirty fingers ?) 

I took the slip of pasteboard and read : — 

Madame Gamier^ 

Parisian Toilet Repositoijy 
Jermyn Sireet. W. 

“ My first impulse was to refuse to go down. 
My second, that it might amuse me or lead to 
something. The woman had a good connec- 
tion with titled and rich folk, so Lutie had told 
me, and I was in the mood to benefit by any 
folly or vice or weakness of my fellowman. 

“ I threw down the card — gave a look at the 
glass which was qualified to put me on good 
terms with myself, and pushing Mary Jane 
aside, I went down to the drawing-room, 

“A sallow-faced woman with about the 


AN INTERLUDE, 


127 


worst complexion I have ever beheld, dyed 
hair of a rusty red-brown colour, and no eye- 
brows to speak of, was about as bad an adver- 
tisement of her own profession of ‘Beautify- 
ing' as mortal could desire. 

“She rose at my entrance and her keen 
black eyes took in every detail of my appear- 
ance. The momentary envy which an ugly 
woman feels in the presence of a more fa- 
voured sister struggled in her expression with 
the superficial courtesy of good breeding. Her 
manners were excellent. Even my hypercrit- 
ical Irish taste could detect nothing wanting. 

“ She was not French, though she had lived 
long enough in Paris to acquire all the little 
tricks and mannerisms of a Parisienne. The 
late Gamier had been a silk merchant, she 
informed us. He had fallen into difficulties 
and they had preyed on his health to such an 
extent that he had shuffled out of the ‘ mortal 
coir and the silk trade at one and the same 
moment. His widow had gathered up the 
fragments of his fortune and come over to 
England. A happy suggestion of utilizing her 
knowledge of ^ petits secrets' had resulted in 
her opening the Toilet Repository already 
mentioned. She sorely needed an assistant 
in the business. 


128 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


I saw her eyes gleam as she stated this — 
and I knew that Lutie had planned this visit. 
Having thrown out the hint she proceeded to 
enlarge on the facilities for making a fortune 
out of the gullibility and vanity* of the female 
mind. Already she had received hundreds of 
letters daily in answer to advertisements, and 
was obliged to employ a chemist of her own to 
assist in making up her preparations. Some 
of these were secrets entrusted to no one but 
herself, but others allowed of assistance with- 
out much danger of betrayal. 

I listened, but gave no hint of suspecting 
the motive of her visit or explanations. Natu- 
rally she grew impatient and came straight to 
the point. 

‘‘Women invariably do if you tax their 
patience. 

“ ‘ Oh Madame !’ she said eagerly. ‘ If you 
would only join me ... if you would only just 
show yourself in my rooms, what an advantage 
— what a favour! I would even waive any 
question of premium. Your friend Miss Gab- 
well tells me that your fortunes are somewhat 
straitened at present. No ... I would not 
ask that. Your valuable assistance would be 
all I should request. . . . Pray — let me beg 
of you to consider the matter.' 


129 


j AN INTERLUDE, 

** I looked at her critically. 

*‘^What would you require me to do?' I 
asked. 

A faint tinge of red crept into the sallow 
skin. She glanced round the room uneasily. 

' If I speak — it will be considered in strict 
confidence ?’ 

“ ‘ Certainly/ I said and looked at Lutie. 
She nodded solemnly. 

'"‘You know you can trust her, Madame,’ 
she said. 

“ I always notice that when English people 
say ‘ Madame’ they seem to think they have 
triumphed over an entire foreign language. 

“ I looked at Madame Gamier as if to say 
‘ Continue’ and she went on with explanations. 
It appeared, she had one specialty — a Com- 
plexion wash which she was most desirous of 
selling. The ingredients were only known to 
herself, and the price was a guinea a bottle. 
My duty would be to advertise — in my own 
person — this marvellous compound. To say — 
in fact — that my complexion was due entirely 
to its use. In fact, the good lady was only em- 
ploying the same dodge as the Hair Specialists 
who first have a good head of hair photographed 
for their advertisements, and then assure the 
trustful public that the luxuriant display is the 


130 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


result of their nostrum, instead of a hopeful — 
but most uncertain; — prophecy. 

Nature had given me an almost faultless 
complexion. I was to give Madame Garnier’s 
Skin Tonic the credit of such an enviable pos- 
session. 

‘‘No doubt in time I should be called upon 
to attribute my teeth, hair, and figure — not to 
mention such trifles as eyelashes and eyebrows 
— to similar specifics. I laughed. But all the 
same the joke seemed not a bad one. God 
knows I had grudges enough to pay off against 
women. Fate was offering me an admirable 
opportunity for revenge. 

“I agreed to think the matter over, but 
already my mind was decided to accept the 
post and the terms. These were liberal enough 
to surprise me and gave pleasant assurance 
of the value of natural advantages. Besides 
I was to have a commission on the articles I 
sold. 

“ When Madame Gamier took her leave she 
was decidedly impressed with me — and most 
anxious for a reply. This I promised to send 
in the course of a few days.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


ARTIFICE. 

October 20th. 

“Two weeks ago I made up my mind to 
accept Madame Gamier s offer, and for exactly 
that space of time I have been here taking 
stock of feminine weakness, laughing at fem- 
inine credulity, and marvelling at the vanity and 
conceit of the male animal. I have ascended 
a pinnacle from which I survey the most 
lamentable spectacle that civilized Humanity 
has to offer. Wrecks of physical beauty and 
physical strength, marvels of human ugliness, 
distortions and depravity. Greedy vanity 
grasping at any means of repairing the ravages 
of Time and dissipation. Unhealthy bodies 
vainly seeking to restore by Art what they 
have lost from outraged Nature. Poor totter- 
ing mouldy human structures, thinking that 
the outside whitewashing will deceive any eye 
as to the rottenness of the edifice it covers. 

“ Sometimes I laugh, more often I wonder 
— but all the same I sell my Skin Tonic f I 
say mine advisedly, for Madame Gamier has 


132 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


thought fit to give to me the credit of its manu- 
facture, as there can be no doubt my appear- 
ance is its best advertisement, and her own its 
worst. 

“ I receive the people and I take infinite credit 
to myself for the style in which I have got up 
the whole establishment. Nobody’s drawing- 
room could be in better taste, or better fur- 
nished. Madame Gamier grumbled a little at 
the expense, but I assured her a business of this 
kind must be carried out in faultless style or it 
would not be patronized by the best people. 

“ She confesses I am right — already. 

“ Country customers who come up to con- 
sult us are struck dumb with wonder at the 
beautiful room with its subdued lights, its rich 
decoration, its lovely warm tones of colour, its 
mirrors and draperies and plants and flowers, 
its dainty tea-tables, and lavish supply of books 
and papers and magazines. 

“ There is even a piano on which I occasion- 
ally perform during some lengthened process 
of Face Massage, or Hair Tinting in the ad- 
joining toilet boxes. There are three of these, 
divided by partitions each from each, so that 
the utmost privacy is secured and no inju- 
dicious rencontre need be feared. 

“All the consulting patients are received 


ARTIFICE. 


133 


in the large salon, one at a time by special 
appointment. 

'‘If no appointment has been made they 
have to take their chance. 

“ Town is still comparatively empty and most 
of our business at present is done by corre- 
spondence for which we employ a typist. The 
amount of work to be got through in a day is 
simply astounding. Madame Gamier, who lives 
on the premises, gives from eight o’clock to ten 
to reading her correspondence. At ten I arrive 
and take possession of the Salon. 

" A page in neat livery opens the door and 
announces the customers. I receive them efi 
grande tenue and never fail to make an im- 
pression. The simpler cases are only asked 
to try the Skin Tonic — the more difficult I 
hand over to Madame Gamier for massage 
treatment. 

" As for the men — God help the creatures ! 
No Sarah-Grand crusade could ever put a 
spark of manly feeling into the feeble effete 
youths — victims of eczema, acne or scrofulous 
irritations — or into the doddering old idiots, 
cased in corsets, dyed, powdered, painted, per- 
fumed into something so pitiable and humili- 
ating that I can only shudder and wonder what 
Life can mean for them. And to these creat- 


12 


134 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


ures I have to talk and laugh, encourage and 
flatter, and by them to be ogled and leered at 
as a ‘ deuced fine woman, by Gad !’ 

“ One or two have tried to go further than 
that — but I read them a lesson which made 
them look even smaller and more shrunken 
and abject, than age and vice had done. 

“As for the profits of the establishment 
they promise well. In these three weeks we 
have never had less than thirty visitors a day 
and everyone of the thirty spent from two to 
five guineas. We average sixty to seventy 
pounds daily without reckoning country and 
town orders in answer to advertisements. 

“The celebrated Tonic costs about one shil- 
ling and ten pence to make and is sold at a 
guinea. This is the average profit on all Mad- 
ame’s articles. I foresee a very fair income 
at the year's end — if no ill fate intervenes. 
By which I mean the inevitable discovery 
which comes sooner or later that fhe marvel- 
lous specifics are not marvellous at all, and 
that cold water and good yellow soap, and 
fresh air and simple food would be of infinitely 
more benefit. 

“ It is strange, however, that once the victims 
of ‘ make up’ take seriously to it, it is almost 
impossible to make them give it up. 


ARTIFICE. 


135 


They go from bad to worse until at last 
they look such pitiable objects that one can 
but marvel whether their natural condition 
isn’t best concealed after all — even as one 
gives a friendly dash from the whitewasher’s 
pail to some dilapidated old structure. As 
far as I am concerned I never touch the stuffs, 
but that is certainly my good fortune. Very 
few women, even in my own land of lovely 
complexions and colouring, can boast of a skin 
like mine. No wonder the Skin Tonic sells 
— and Madame chuckles over its concoction ! 
At this rate I shall treble her connection for her. 

“ If I were a novelist, what a sphere I should 
find this for the study of character ! 

“ The proudest old dowager who drives up 
in her coroneted carriage with her powdered 
footman, sinks into the most abject humility 
before me when, with my ‘ grand air’ and my 
faultless skin and figure, I have to ask her to 
wash off her pigments and submit to Mad- 
ame’s inspection. Oh ye gods ! talk of whited 
sepulchres! Such bones — and bare craniums 
— such yellow wrinkled skins — such glued and 
dyed eyebrows ! 

‘‘ At times a shudder of disgust — too gen- 
uine for success in such a business — runs 
through me as the wreck of Nature is so 


136 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


pitifully revealed — or some abject entreaty 
reaches me — ‘Oh, do promise me that the 
Tonic will really be beneficial. / have tried so 
many things' 

“ I give the assurance without a qualm of 
conscience now. 

“ ‘ It will be as beneficial as anything can be 
on this side of the grave. At all events it can 
do no harm.* 

“ My trump card is always held to the end. 
The money has been paid, the parcel is made 
up. Then I say, ‘Understand, Madam, that 
on no account must you use any other cosmetic 
while under this treatment !* 

“The poor victim looks at me in horror. 
‘ Do you mean no powder or . . . colouring ? 
Dear me ! what shall I do !* 

“‘You will entirely counteract the good 
effects of the Tonic if you rouge or powder 
your face,* I repeat. 

“ She promises — and goes her way. I know 
perfectly well that she wodt give up her 
rouge — and that if she utters any complaint 
as to the failure of the remedy — or its tardy 
effects on her wrinkled old visage, I have my 
answer ready. 

“ And so the game goes on — and the profits 
accumulate /** 


CHAPTER XIV. 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. 

** It was growing dusk — the dreary dusk of 
a December day — and I was sitting over the 
fire in our luxuriously fitted up salon, yawning 
my head off, and vainly trying to interest my- 
self in a novel. 

“ Madame Gamier had gone out to do some 
shopping and I was alone. The tea-table was 
drawn up near the fire. The kettle hissing 
over the spirit-stand. I was just thinking of 
ringing for lights when the door opened and 
the page announced a visitor. In the dim 
light I only saw a man's figure stumbling for- 
ward with a man's awkwardness among the 
lounges, stools, and tables scattered about. 

“ I stooped forward and stirred the fire into 
a blaze. Then turned to greet the supposed 
customer with my usual air of affability : — 

‘‘ ‘ What can I have the pleasure of ' 

My tongue stopped, paralyzed almost by 
astonishment and something not unlike fear. 

I was confronted by the white flabby face 
12* , 137 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


138 

and the shrunken, strangely-altered figure of 
Jasper Oldreeve ! 

‘‘ His name faltered from my lips as he ex- 
tended his hand, and a vague uneasiness seized 
me — remembering my oath. 

‘ How on earth did you find me out ?’ I 
exclaimed, pointing to a chair and re-seating 
myself in my own. 

“ ‘ Where there's a will there’s a way,’ he 
answered with ponderous playfulness as he 
took the seat indicated, and then surveyed me 
with a strange hungry look in his wide blue 
eyes that made me feel cold and sick. I had 
seen that look in men’s eyes before and I — 
liked it not. 

“‘You did not fancy you could hide from 
me, did you ?’ he went on. ‘ Had you gone 
to the ends of the earth I should have found 
you. Something in you draws me as the 
magnet draws the needle. The passion you 
have roused in me is no milk-and-water school- 
boy love — to feed on dreams and be satisfied. 
It is more exacting than any feeling or relation 
of my life hitherto.’ 

“ I had tried to stop him. It was useless. 
He had come here to speak and speak he 
would. With a sense of disgust and annoy- 
ance I leant back and looked at him. His face 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. 1 39 

was flushed his hands shook. His agitation 
was not more becoming to him than it is to 
any man who is desperately in earnest before 
a woman’s criticism. The stream of words 
poured on. The old, old story — God ! how 
often I’ve heard it ! 

“ I could have laughed in his face only that 
I was not in a laughing humour. Indeed, I 
was more annoyed than amused. Love has 
much to answer for — and Love had worked a 
strange transformation in the good Jasper ! 

“ I suppose he must have observed my in- 
difference at last for he suddenly paused, and 
then our eyes met. The colour in his face 
changed to a sickly pallor. 

“ ‘ I — I hope I’ve not offended you,’ he 
stammered. ‘ Surely you k7iew ? All that 

time at Hillside you must have guessed ’ 

* Mr. Oldreeve !’ I said indignantly, *I 
never imagined your attentions meant more 
than the courtesy of a gentleman to a lady 
staying under his roof. To come to me now 
— before your wife has been two months in 
her grave — and profess such a — a passion, as 
you call it, is in very bad taste, I assure you, 
especially as I have never given you any en- 
couragement to do such a thing.’ 

‘‘ He fairly gasped. ‘ No encouragement !’ 


140 WOMAN IN IT. 

he repeated. * Why, every glance that led me 
on, every smile that lured me to forgetfulness 
of duty and honour, were encouragement. 
Every action promised my reward should ac- 
cident — or * 

“He stopped again and wiped his ghastly 
face with his handkerchief. I looked at him 
keenly. He was more agitated than the occa- 
sion seemed to warrant. A strange hateful 
suspicion shot through my mind. How — why 
— or whence it came I know not. It was a 
flash of woman’s intuition. 

“ Perhaps some of the horror of my thoughts 
was in my eyes, for he grew paler still as he 
looked at me — and the cold dew on his fore- 
head stood out in great beads. 

“ ‘ No — no — ’ he stammered in confusion, ‘ I 
am not blaming you. My feelings run away 
with me — pray forgive what I said. I can 
be very patient — indeed I can. One page of 
my life is folded over for ever — but I will be 
in no unseemly haste to open the fresh one. 
Only assure me there is no other . . . that I 
may hope ?’ 

“ He held out his hands entreatingly — but 
the sight of those supple nervous fingers only 
inspired me with fresh horror. I shrank 
away. 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. I4I 

“‘No — no/ I cried impulsively, ‘I can’t say 
that — I can’t promise anything !’ 

“ He rose slowly and unsteadily to his feet 
— and stood leaning against the mantelshelf 
looking down at me. 

“ ‘ No hope ? Do you mean to say there is 
no hope ? That after I have suffered for you — 
sinned for you ’ 

“ I cried out impulsively. My horror of what 
he might say made me eager to stay a con- 
fession at all hazards. 

‘“You are labouring under a delusion,’ I 
said. ‘ I never had any feeling for you but 
friendship. If ... if I seemed to show any- 
thing more it was only pity — the pity I felt for 
your unhappy life ’ 

“ A sort of groan cut me short. He turned 
away and folded his arms on the low mantel- 
shelf and laid his head upon them. 

“ His silence was more trying than his words 
had been. I felt I should scream if this scene 
went on much longer. The sight of that quiet 
figure — the echo of that heart-breaking groan 
thrilled every nerve with positive pain. I 
wished Madame would return. Anything to 
break up the scene — to offer an interruption. 

“Suddenly he lifted his head, and faced 
round on me with something of defiance. 


142 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


‘ I can't believe you mean to be cruel,’ he 
said ; ‘ it is not only love I offer you — a man’s 
whole heart and soul — but riches — comfort — 
position, all that the world has denied you as 
you once confessed. Think well — do not de- 
cide in haste. I will teach myself to be patient 
— only don’t send me from you. I can’t /we 
without you. You are more than life to me ! 
Haven’t I proved it — haven’t I perilled soul 
and body for your sake ?’ 

Again those rash wild words. Again that 
odd feeling of repulsion and fear on my part. 

I rose — my hands went out instinctively 
as if to ward off a blow. 

“ ' I don’t understand you,' I said. 

He came closer. I had a terrified sicken- 
ing feeling of a grasp — a hot breath — a hissing 
whisper. 

“H myself — for you. Do you under- 

stand now? — for jyou. You tempted and I 
fell. But none the less both are bound by the 
tie of guilt. Together we stand or fall. I 
shall not let you go this side the grave — I 
swear it! 

“Whether I shrieked or cried, or what, I 
cannot now remember. The hideous truth 
flashed in naked bareness before my eyes. 

“ I saw the reward of my vanity — my folly — 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. 143 

my idiotic coquetry in the proffered love of — 
a murderer ! 

“ How that scene lives before me again as I 
write of it. How the hateful touch of that 
man seems still to cling and burn my flesh. 
How my poor distracted mind tortures itself 
with vain questions and interminable wonder 
at my own stupidity. A light has been thrown 
over the dark mystery of Mrs. Oldreeve’s 
death — the light of her husband’s confession. 

“For the first time in my life I stood face to 
face with crime. It is not a thing read of in 
the newspaper columns — talked of — rumoured 
— but an actual fact touching and concerning 
myself with a nearness that makes me shudder. 

“ Fortunately for me Madame Gamier ap- 
peared on the scene at that desperate juncture 
when the wretched man’s self-betrayal had 
well-nigh put me at his mercy. God knows 
what I might have promised or done at that 
moment. My nerves were all unstrung — 
every fibre of me quivered with horror. I felt 
myself in the presence of a madman — and my 
sole thought was of escape. 

“ At Madame Garnier’s entrance he recovered 
his composure, and I faltered out some stupid 
explanation as to his being a friend who had 


144 ^ WOMAN IN IT. 

called to see me. He grasped the situation 
and made some excuse for intruding on my 
place of business. He would call at Gower 
Street the next day — Sunday. 

I agreed weakly enough and thankfully saw 
him depart. 

“ Madame Gamier made no remark. She 
saw so many extraordinary people that one 
more or less did not count. Besides the room 
was half dark, and his confusion less apparent 
than it might have been. 

“ And now I ask myself in despair what am 
I to do? 

“ The man is both desperate and dangerous. 
His threats, irrational as they are, have yet 
filled me with an unreasoning terror. 

“Was ever woman plagued as I am? 

“ I am not in a position yet to face exposure 
or bring the sleuth-hounds of scandal on my 
track once more. 

“ I have taken counsel with Lutie. Indeed I 
was in such agitation when I returned from 
Jermyn Street that she noticed something was 
amiss. 

“ I was furious at her for giving my address 
— though on reflection I saw that he would 
have gained his purpose without it. He 
would have seen me here instead. How he 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. 145 


had remembered the Gower Street address I 
could not imagine. Perhaps my first letter 
had been among his wife's papers. But what 
matters the why and wherefore of a result? 
It is the result itself with which one has to 
deal, and I sit here burning the midnight oil 
and perplexing myself with a thousand ques- 
tions and — yet arrive at no decision. Lutie 
cuts the Gordian knot by advising me to tell 
him I can't marry him simply because I have a 
husband living. But I should hate to do that. 
He might tell Jack Enderleigh — or he might 
refuse to believe me — and then the proofs are 
not of the most creditable nature in the world 
— and would have to be furnished by news- 
paper cuttings 

*‘Was ever woman so unfortunate? Just 
as everything looked prosperous and pleasant 
at Coombe Abbot came the catastrophe of 
Mrs. Oldreeve's death. Just as I am estab- 
lished in my new business and have a prospect 
of counting on a safe income of a clear thou- 
sand a year this unlucky contretemps threatens 
me. 


** I wonder why I keep on writing all this : I 
am so tired I can hardly hold my head up, and 
yet I darerUt go to bed. I am haunted by that 
Q k 13 


146 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


man's dreadful looks — and dreadful words — 
haunted by the hateful curiosity as to how he 
committed the deed, and how he has escaped 
detection. 

“ Detection ! 

“ As the word faces me I remember he is in 
my power. A word from me and the Law he 
has evaded lays its strong grasp upon him — 
and Tm safe. 

“ Can I speak the word ? 

Dare I speak it ? . . . The pen dropped — 
leaving a long black smudge on the white 
paper. My distorted fancy seemed to see in 
it the picture of a gallows ! 

“ . . . Ugh ! how lonely and still the house 
is. So lonely that the tramp of the policeman 
in the street below is plainly audible. How 
regularly he paces to and fro . . . and what a 
short distance his beat seems to take him . . . 

“ Impelled by curiosity I rose a moment ago 
and looked out of the window of my room. 
A lamp-post faces the house. Its rays fell on 
the pavement — dark now with mud and rain. 

** The footstep again approached, 

‘‘ The steady tramp was no policeman’s foot 
as I had supposed. A figure shrouded in a 
heavy overcoat — the collar turned up round 
the face — was pacing slowly before the house. 


FEELING THE PULSE OF DANGER. 147 


As I Stood gazing down — the blind in my hand 
— it turned, paused, looked up. 

“Full and clear the lamplight fell on the 
face. 

“I dropped the blind. An inevitable con- 
clusion forced itself upon me. 

“ There, watchful, sleepless as myself, stood 
the man who had fastened himself on my life 
— Jasper Oldreeve 


CHAPTER XV. 


VICTORY. 

‘‘To wake up in the morning with a clear 
head, a steady pulse, and a cool determination 
to face the worst was a matter of surprise to 
myself. 

“ I have to thank one of Madame Garnier's 
recipes for it. I do not state what the mystic 
remedy was, though I don’t mind confessing 
I had no faith in it, despite her earnest recom- 
mendation and the many eulogies it had won 
from fagged and dissipated society women. 
Desperation induced me to make a trial of it, 
and I slept like an untroubled child till the 
Church bells’ clanguor roused me next morn- 
ing. 

“ I rose and dressed hastily — caring little 
for my appearance. Jasper Oldreeve was to 
call at twelve o’clock. I was awaiting him a 
few minutes before that hour in Lutie’s private 
sitting-room. 

“Needless to say she kept strictly out of 
the way. Neither of us had any desire to re- 
148 


VICTORY, 


149 


vive Mrs. Shetland Mackenzie. When I say 
herey where at least I speak truth, that the 
sound of the door-bell, and the approach of a 
footstep raised neither flutter nor tremor in 
my heart, I think I pay the best compliment 
of steady nerves to Madame Garnier’s 
‘ Soothing Drops.* 

He was painfully agitated. I could see 
that. He looked like a man recovering from 
a severe drinking bout. His eyes were blood- 
shot, his hands shook, the muscles of his 
mouth were all relaxed. 

“I saw at a glance that the chances were 
against him. It was not by any means the 
first time in my life I had had to face a man 
in a battle of wits. The whole series of events 
under which I had chafed and fretted yester- 
day, seemed conquerable to-day. I was not 
frightened now of Mr. Jasper Oldreeve. I 
evaded his hand when he held it out. I could 
smile and laugh and talk to him, but I could 
not bear his touch. There was something re- 
pulsive to me in the sight of those white rest- 
less fingers. My dislike to him had increased 
steadily to something very like hate. 

*T have always had a horror of coercion. 
Its only effect is to drive me into rebellion — 
open or secret as the case may be. 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


ISO 

*'1 plunged into the subject at once, before 
he had time to collect his senses, or subdue 
the passionate emotion which my presence 
only too readily evoked in his weak brain. 

‘ Mr. Oldreeve,' I said, * I must speak very 
plainly to you. You were good enough yes- 
terday to make me an offer, and you appeared 
to think you were justified in doing so by what 
you termed “ encouragement'' on my part. If 
there was any such encouragement you must 
lay the blame to my unfortunate nationality. 
You cold English can never understand that 
there is an amount of give and take — friendli- 
ness, camaraderie, in short — among Irishmen 
and Irishwomen which is perfectly harmless 
but which you would call flirtation. Now, in 
your position at Hillside I gave no thought to 
any serious meaning on your part. No, don't 
speak. You must hear me out. In the first 
place you were a married man. In the second 
you had what I must delicately term an “ en- 
tanglement." In the third and last, I — am not 
a free woman.' 

My voice faltered there. I bent my head 
to hide confusion, or shame or anything he 
chose to place as interpretation of my agita- 
tion. But under my lowered lids my eyes read 
him like a book. 


VICTORY, 


151 

Every shot had told, 

“He simply sat there dumb and motionless, 
unable to utter a word. I opened fire again. 

‘‘ ‘ Under these circumstances,’ I said, ‘ you 
must see that our interview of yesterday had 
best be forgotten by both of us. I would 
rather not refer to the rash statements you 
made, I cannot believe they were uttered seri- 
ously. As far as your feelings for me are con- 
cerned I can only deplore their existence, and 
assure you I deeply regret any part in arousing 
them. Once for all, Mr. Oldreeve, it is part 
of my unhappy fate that I can marry no man — 
however worthy. When I have said that, you, 
as a gentleman, will surely not press me any 
further.’ 

“He sprang to his feet, his eyes ablaze. 
‘Why do you tell me this now?' he cried 
hoarsely. ‘Now when it is too late? Now 
when * 

“‘It was my spcret,’ I said boldly, in the 
broken pause of his shaken voice. ‘Why 
should I have confessed it without reason ? I 
am none too proud of my married life. I have 
separated myself from the brute who made it 
a veritable hell for me, but I cannot marry. 
He — will not free me.’ 

“ (A lie that was half a truth. Powers of 


152 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Heaven, how often had such a lie saved me in 
crises like this ! Would it serve me now ?) 

“ He paced the room in strong agitation. 

‘‘ Hf I had known !’ That was all he said 
again and again. ‘ God of Mercy ! If I had 
only known !’ 

Poor wretch ! For a moment I almost 
pitied him. Passion had hurried him into 
crime, and now that crime was useless. Its 
price was denied him — its results alone faced 
him in a dread that would never die, a shame 
that would sap his very life and fill its every 
hour with horror. 

‘‘He took no notice of my second shaft. 
The third — the deadly one that pierced him to 
the core — alone usurped his attention. At last 
he threw himself down on the hard old horse- 
hair sofa and hid his face in his hands. 

“ ‘ You are the cruellest woman on all God’s 
earth, I think,’ he said at last. ‘When I re- 
member how you lured me on — of what I 
have done for your sake — I — I — could kill 
you.’ 

“ ‘ Surely,’ I said icily, ‘ one murder in a life- 
time is enough ; though they say a man is rarely 
content without giving it a successor.* 

“It was brutal of me, it was horrible, I 
know, but I felt mad with rage, and the shame 


VICTORY, 153 

of his presence, and the horror of his accusa- 
tions of myself. 

“ Perhaps conscience told me they were not 
altogether unmerited. I had flirted with him 
before Jack Enderleigh came on the scene. In 
a sudden flash I saw revealed all the mischief I 
had done — at first thoughtlessly, then out of 
pure devilment. 

I felt almost the vile thing he seemed to 
think me, while my emotional temperament 
swayed me hither and thither on the stream of 
accusing memories. 

“He looked at me with dull bewildered 
eyes. 

“ ‘ Murder !’ he said in a hoarse whisper, 
‘ who dares say that ? It was only . . . only an 
accident. She was in pain, she asked for the 
needle. I — I might not have counted the drops 
qu i te — accu rately ’ 

“A shudder shook his frame. Great drops 
of sweat stood on his brow. I thought what 
a fool he was to tell all this to me. 

“ What woman ever keeps a secret unless it 
concerns herself? 

“Then, suddenly by a strong effort, he 
seemed to calm himself. ‘At least, ^ he said, 
‘ if you cannot be my wife you can be no other 
man’s either.’ 


154 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


^‘‘True/ I said coldly. ‘But believe me, 
Mr. Oldreeve, marriage offers no temptation 
to me. I know too much of your sex to risk 
a livelong bondage again.* 

“He looked at me, his eyes glowing and 
darkening beneath the fever of his thoughts ; 
the chained passions of his nature loosed at last. 

“What he said, what he prayed, what mad, 
hateful things fell from his lips I cannot write 
even here, where only my own eyes may see 
them. 

“ I grew sick with shame and disgust. Well, 
as I know men, I had a dim hope that there 
might be found, here and there, one in whom 
the evil was not so near the surface of pro- 
fessed passion, one to whom a woman was not 
merely because of her sex. 

“ The storm passed and again I conquered. 
I was stronger than he, colder, steadier, more 
pitiless. Victory could not but remain in my 
hands. 

“ He saw soon that I had nothing to fear, 
and he nothing to hope. Neither love nor 
riches tempted me when he played the Faust. 
His foolish threats passed by my indifference 
like an idle breath. What could he do that 
would affect me without putting a rope round 
his own neck ? He saw that, I think, and his 


VICTORY, 


155 


futile rage and baffled passion gave me a 
terrible half hour. If I had not been very 
firm, it would have fared ill with me. There 
is no greater brute than your mild man when 
his passions are thoroughly roused. For him 
baffled love means only baffled lust. He is 
without scruple and without mercy. 

“ Fairly worn out I saw him leave at last. 
I had promised to write occasionally ; to see 
him, also occasionally, when he came up to 
Town. Then I gave him two cautions. 

‘“You have to live down the tragedy of 
your wife's death in a scandalous and evil 
thinking neighbourhood. You have an un- 
scrupulous enemy in your own household — 
Rosalie, the French maid.' 

“ ‘ Rosalie ?' he repeated. ‘ She left Coombe 
Abbot long ago. . She is with Lady Slee in 
London.' 

“ In London ! A little uncomfortable thrill 
ran through me, the feeling of insecurity that 
arises from consciousness of an enemy’s pres- 
ence. 

“T don't care where she is,' I told him. 
‘She is dangerous, and you had best be 
careful. Besides, she is jealous — I added 
with meaning emphasis. ‘She knows some- 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


156 

thing and suspects more, and she is not over- 
scrupulous/ 

“ ‘ I know that,^ he stammered, huskily. * I 
was in hopes I had rid myself of her.' 

“ I laughed scornfully. ' She is not the sort 
of woman to rid oneself of very easily,' I 
said. ' She knows too much to lose sight of 
the market for her knowledge.' 

‘‘ He stood there awkward and embarrassed, 
his hat in his hand, his colour coming and 
going like that of a foolish schoolboy. 

“ ‘ I have one thing more to say,' he faltered. 
‘ If — if you should ever be free, might I hope 
for a different answer ?' 

“I started. I could not help it, well as I 
had drilled myself. 

‘‘It is not likely I ever shall be free,’ I 
said. ‘The — the man to whom I am bound 
is young — strong, and has as good a chance 
of life as I myself.' 

“ ‘ But could you not force him into a di- 
vorce ?’ he went on eagerly. 

“ I looked virtuous indignation at the sug- 
gestion. ‘I wouldn't attempt such a pro- 
ceeding.' 

“He stood there still, though my hand was 
on the bell and every line of face and figure 
must surely have breathed — ‘ Go !' 


^VICTORY, 


157 


“ Then he said slowly and significantly : 
‘ Hope is hard to kill. I shall hope — and wait^ 
“ I made no answer. Patience failed me at 
last. I rang the bell, and as the front door 
closed I sank back into my chair and went off 
into violent hysterics, which took Lutie and 
Martha the rest of the morning to subdue. 

One has to pay the penalty of a victory, 
be it great or small.*' 


14 


CHAPTER XVI. 


PRO BONO PUBLICO. ’ 

*^They say ‘the happy have no histories.' 
In like manner the absence of entries in my 
diary of late, points to a lack of incident in 
my eventful life. To me incident is usually of 
an unpleasant nature. I rarely have anything 
agreeable to chronicle. 

“ Still I am thankful for a week's peace. 

“Seven days without anything untoward 
happening — seven nights of calm deep sleep. 
No wonder I feel braced up. With my fatal 
Irish buoyancy of temperament I begin to 
believe that my troubles are over, at least for 
a time — and to throw myself into my new work 
with fresh interest. Town is filling rapidly and 
customers are more numerous. The fame of 
the ‘Skin Tonic' is spreading, and Madame 
Gamier has added other items to her list 
of ‘ Aids to Beauty.' Her wonderful ‘ Hair 
Tinting' brings innumerable applicants, and 
sometimes every hour of her day is filled up. 
It amuses me to see women come in one colour 
158 


PRO BONO PUBLICO, 1 59 

and go out another. I wonder what their foot- 
men think ? 

‘‘I wonder, too, how Madame Gamier can 
have the patience to mess about with those 
poor faded wisps of hair. No wonder her 
charges are high ! If things go on like this 
she will soon make a fortune. 

was alone this morning when a card was 
brought me by the page. I saw it bore the 
name of a certain Lady's newspaper recently 
started, and had ^Favoured by the Editor in 
the corner. 

‘‘The lady came with a twofold purpose. 
1st, would Madame allow herself to be inter- 
viewed? 2 nd, would she take a page of the 
paper for her advertisements on moderate 
terms? If so they would arrange for their 
Toilet Editress to puff all her recipes. 

“As Madame Gamier usually left these 
matters to me I debated for a short time and 
then agreed. As far as the interview was 
concerned I — as her representative — insisted 
upon its being done on the spot, and ar- 
ranged quite a romantic history, with acces- 
sories for the benefit of ‘ the Leader of Fashion' 
readers. I enjoyed it immensely, especially 


l6o A WOMAN IN IT, 

when allusions to a ‘ faultless complexion’ and 
magnificent chevelure were sprinkled through 
the paragraphs. (My royalties would be worth 
something after that When the interview 
was over the question of the sum to be spent 
on advertising aroused all my business instincts. 
Advertising is an expensive process. But it is 
necessary. It is astonishing what the British 
public will believe, wear, eat, drink and use if 
the thing has only been blazoned before their 
eyes long enough for them to recognize it. 
Then they believe in it, and get it. In the first 
place a lot of money must have been spent on 
bringing the invention into notice, and the fact 
of a ‘ lot of money’ being spent on anything 
argues in John Bull’s mind that there must be 
some merit in it. 

'' Moreover, there is a class of persons who 
seem to exist in the world for the sole purpose 
of being gulled. It is their nature, their prov- 
ince, their mission in life. If one person doesn’t 
gull them, another will. I therefore thought 
Madame Gamier might as well have her oppor- 
tunity, and after some haggling and objections 
managed to secure the rights of a column for 
the sum of ;^6 weekly. 

Having concluded a good morning’s work 
and hinted at the titled notabilities who were 


PRO BONO PUBLICO. l6l 

among our clientele ^ I dismissed my interviewer 
and awaited results. 

“The week after that advertisement ap- 
peared the numbers of anxious enquirers who 
applied to ‘ Florizel’ the Toilet Editress for in- 
formation as to treatment of pimples, blotches, 
red noses, scanty hair, superfluous hair, want 
of eyelashes, and other personal defects were 
numerous enough to make one wonder whether 
there was a Blight on Beauty, as sometimes 
happens with potatoes. But one and all were 
soon assured that an application by post or 
in person to Madame Garnier’s magnificent 
Toilet Emporium would relieve all skin defects 
and make them ‘ beautiful for ever.* 

“ They evidently believed it. The amount of 
letters and postal orders that poured in on us 
after the issue of that week’s number was 
simply appalling. Madame had to engage a 
special chemist to make up her washes and 
dyes, and the business we gave him promised 
to compensate for a long struggle with legiti- 
mate drugs, and ‘ Store’ prices. 

“ Callers were so numerous that I began to 
flag, and resolved to ask Madame Gamier to 
have another assistant. I mentioned this to 
Lutie and she again offered to give up the care 
of boarders and join us, but I doubted her 
/ 14* 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


162 

qualifications and opposed the idea. After all 
‘ Beauty Embellishing* is a ticklish thing. A 
very little whisper sometimes damages a busi- 
ness, and women can be very spiteful. At 
times when some fearful old hag was grum- 
bling at her unimproved appearance and our 
prices I almost lost my temper. Did she really 
fancy we could put back the hands of Time — 
giving her the firm, fair skin of youth, the 
glowing freshness of seventeen at sixty ! 

“ Occasionally we did wonders, and then 
trade grew brisk indeed. Some complexions 
really allowed of improvement. Massage, 
vigorous application of soap and water, a judi- 
cious touch of colour and a dust of poudre de 
riz would turn a plain face into quite a pre- 
sentable one. But then one had something to 
work on. Given a thick skin, passable feat- 
ures, good eyes, and it was easy to make forty 
a very decent thirty, or put thirty back to 
twenty-five. But the hopeless cases were the 
old half-palsied creatures of either sex who 
had ruined their constitution, or impaired their 
health, or irretrievably damaged their com- 
plexions by all sorts of pigments and washes. 
Their very hopelessness made them all the 
more obstinate. They would refuse to go 
away without something being done, and Ma- 


PRO BONO PUBLICO. 163 

dame Gamier could but shrug her shoulders 
and plaster them up till they looked like cari- 
catures of nature and were only safe in a 
darkened room. Their bleared old eyes scru- 
tinized the 'improvement’ with that fond be- 
lief in its utter invisibility to other eyes that 
is so characteristic of people who ‘make up.’ 
They wrote their cheques and tottered out to 
their broughams or cabs, as the case might be, 
with a satisfied security on their withered lips, 
and a rooted conviction that they could safely 
face the Park under rose-lined sunshades or 
curly-brimmed hats. 

“ Truly a world of fools is ruled by vanity. 

“ I am growing hardened to it all now, but 
heartily sick of it. Yet I can’t afford to throw 
it up. In what other business or occupation 
would I be likely to make so much money ? 

“Dec. 13th. The six months were up a 
week ago. I have been expecting to hear from 
the lawyers that the ‘decree absolute* was 
pronounced. But no word has come. I will 
try and get out for an hour to-morrow and 
call at Lincoln’s Inn. 

“ A letter came this morning from Jasper 
Oldreeve. The same maudlin story. How I 
hate the man — how I wish I could shake him 


164 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


off! I wrote a few lines — just to keep him 
quiet. I am afraid of his coming up to see 
me again. , , . 

‘‘Dec. 15th. Home after a long fatiguing 
day. More worries and troubles. First, the 
lawyers informed me that they had received no 
instructions from Mr. Garbett to make the 
application necessary for the decree. They 
believed he had gone abroad, but in any case 
they were unable to act without such instruc- 
tions. 

“ I almost lost my temper. 

“ ‘Abroad ! And you don’t know where to 
find him, and I am left in this ambiguous posi- 
tion ! I shall apply to the judge myself.' 

“ They smiled compassionately and got 
down some odious books and proceeded to 
read paragraphs to the effect that the ‘ Final 
application for nullity of marriage must be 
made by the petitioner in the case — not by the 
respondent.’ 

“ ‘ Then,’ I cried indignantly, ‘ am I to wait 
on in this fashion until he chooses to conclude 
the matter ?’ 

“That was just my position they assured 
me. 

“ I burst out into indignant denunciation of 


PRO BONO PUBLICO. 


165 


the law — its injustice to women, its proverbial 
one-sidedness, its delays, expenses and general 
inability. They only smiled and bent their 
heads to the storm as if used to it. Heaven 
knows they’ve reason to be if they’ve many 
female clients. 

“ I put it to them that if the co-respondent 
was willing to marry the divorcie, or if a child 
was expected, the law was exceedingly cruel in 
not permitting her to make the application. 
They quite agreed with me, but there the hate- 
ful unjust thing stood in black and white, made 
as I’ve always maintained by men, for men. 
Women, as usual, get the worst of it. 

“ I returned to the charge again. Was there 
no redress — could nothing be done ? Couldn’t 
I claim support or alimony ? Yes — could ap- 
ply for Mr. Garbett to furnish me with money 
if I was prepared to show I had no means of 
support. This would necessitate the case 
coming on again, however, and bring my name 
and misdemeanour once more before the pub- 
lic. And then I must find out where he was, 
and have him served with the necessary papers 
at my own cost f 

‘Ts it any wonder I lost my temper? Was 
anything more stupid, and useless, and idiotic 
ever framed and passed into a statute ? I’ve 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


1 66 

never been an advocate of Woman’s Rights, 
but from the moment I had the Law of Divorce 
explained to me I would uphold them, their 
denunciation-lectures, platform orations and 
general condemnation of man and his ways, 
with all the eloquence and zeal of the most 
inveterate emancipator ! 

I left Lincoln’s Inn in a boiling rage. I sent 
a telegram to Jermyn Street to say I should 
not be able to return that afternoon, and then 
took a hansom back to Gower Street and 
vented my ill-humour on Lutie, who was all 
sympathy and commiseration. 

“‘But, after all,’ she said, with her usual 
tactless stupidity, ‘what does it matter? It’s 
not as if you wanted to marry anyone else ! ’ 

“I flashed one look, and then swept out 
of the room and gave myself up to hysterical 
sobs and fierce denunciations against my ill- 
luck. 

“ And all the time I only saw Jack Ender- 
leigh’s handsome face and heard his voice 
echoing in my ear — and felt again that old 
wild thrill when his kisses had touched my 
hands in the darkened hall at Hillside ! 

“ Oh ! what a vile wretch I am ! and what 
a vile world this is !' 


PRO BONO PUBLICO. 


167 


Midnight. 

I dragged Lutie off to the theatre in sheer 
desperation. Anything was better than my 
own thoughts, my own mood. The piece was 
silly and vapid. No one knows how to write 
plays nowadays ! 

“ I returned in as ill-humour as I went. A 
letter lay on the hall-table. It had come by 
the last post. I recognized Madame Gamier s 
small firm hand, and lilac ink. It was to the 
effect that several people had applied that day 
for the post of assistant. She had advertised 
for one the previous day. Among those ap- 
plicants was a Frenchwoman whom she had 
met in Paris years before. She seemed just 
suited to the place and was a fair linguist, 
besides being able to apply any of the remedies 
— washes, or dyes — with the skill of her coun- 
trywomen and the advantages of long practice 
as a lady’s maid. She had therefore engaged 
her at once and on receipt of my telegram 
had kept her at work all that afternoon. She 
had proved very satisfactory. 

“ I threw the letter aside. My work would 
be lighter, but I did not know how I should 
get on with this assistant. 

“ However, among big worries, little ones 
sink into insignificance !” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A RENCONTRE. 

Dec. 1 8th. 

“ I WENT to Madame Garnier’s this morning 
in a most miserable state of mind. 

‘‘ The first person I saw seated in the salon, 
beautifully dressed and ‘ made up,* was Rosalie 
Brunet. 

“ My start of annoyance called up some 
real colour to her sallow skin. She looked 
equally astonished. I suppose Madame Gar- 
nier had not told her my name. 

‘‘ ' Comment — mais, how is this ? You here ?* 
she hissed. 

' I am Madame Garnier’s partner,* I said 
coldly. *I suppose you are the assistant she 
engaged yesterday.* 

‘‘Yes, she had that honour. Everything had 
been quite satisfactory. She had made Mad- 
ame*s acquaintance in Paris. Madame was 
all that was estimable and kind. She heard 
she had established a magnificent business. 
She would be delighted to give her poor ser- 
vices — but — to see me here . . . 

i68 


A RENCONTRE. 169 

“ I cut her short. I was in the worst possi- 
ble temper and she saw it. 

'‘‘You have your duties to attend to. I 
have mine. There is no need for any more 
discussion,’ I said. 

“ She looked at me with some apprehension. 

“ ‘ You are not pleased ? Say then is it that 
you intend to set Madame against me ?’ 

“ ‘ I shall not trouble myself about you in the 
least,’ I answered, ‘ if you attend to your duties. 
But I will stand no nonsense, and I will have 
no repetition of such scenes as those at Coombe 
Abbot. This is a good situation for you, and 
you will make three times the money you did 
as lady’s maid. But remember, /am the chief 
person in the establishment. If I say a word 
I can have you dismissed.’ 

“ She surveyed me doubtfully for a moment. 
There was an ominous flash in her eye, but 
she kept herself well in hand. 

“ ‘ I have come here,’ she said, ‘ for a purpose. 
What it is matters not. I am tired of being 
the slave of ladies ; I will have no more. I 
promise you to keep my place. I know you 
have kept your promise. Let us be friends.’ 

“ It was the friendship of a serpent sheathing 
its head, concealing its venom. I knew that. 
But I pretended to believe her. 

H 15 


170 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


When Madame Gamier came in she found 
us calmly talking over the affairs of the Empo- 
rium and deeply interested in the mysteries of 
Art. The work of the day commenced. The 
old dreary, sickening business which I was be- 
ginning to detest so heartily. 

“ I would have thrown it up in one of my 
impulses of disgust, but I knew I should be 
long in finding another that would bring me 
in so much money. And yet what was the 
use of the money ? No one I cared about saw 
my fine dresses, or the jewellery I had at last 
redeemed. The doors of Society were for 
ever shut against me. I saw a vista of hope- 
less years stretching before me and shuddered 
at the sight. In them all no pure or healthy 
feeling, no definite aim, only loss of youth and 
beauty, the career of an adventuress — the end 
of 

“No wonder I shuddered with horror. No 
wonder I cursed my miserable fate. I could 
never be quite safe. I could never own a 
name that was free from reproach, a station 
that could not be assailed. Honour, wealth, 
fair repute — they were not for me, and I knew 
in my heart of hearts I had only myself to 
blame. . . . Had I ever been a good woman ? 

“ What is the use of asking such a question 


A RENCONTRE. 


171 

of Night and the Silence ? And after all what 
is goodness but absence of temptation ? My 
life has been all temptation from the hour I 
left my father’s house in that wretched little 
Irish village to the present moment. 

“ For the present temptation is to — end 
it. 

“ How tempting the Drops look. A long 
deep sleep, and then no more waking to the 
fret and fever of life — no more 

“ What stopped my hand here ? 

A moment ago I had thrown down my pen 
and was holding the laudanum bottle in my 
hand. Then sharp and swift a thought flashed 
across my brain — Jack ! 

God knows what made me think of him 
in such a moment. What brought that sudden 
throb of tenderness to my wicked heart. My 
hand shook, I laid the bottle aside. I came 
back and sat here looking at this blurred and 
blotted page. No, I won’t say good-bye to 
life yet. 

“ Who knows but that I may yet be free, 
may yet be happy ? 

“ Hope is hard to kill, and I am by nature 
hopeful. I may be free — soon. Any mail 
may bring that welcome release. I might 
marry Jack. Yet I’ve vowed to eschew mat- 


1^2 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


rimony for the future, and why should I do 
him so great a wrong ? 

“ If he knew me as I am 

“ There ! I’m getting morbid again. No man 
ever knows a woman really as she is. I shall 
be no more deceptive than the rest of my de- 
ceitful sex. For we are all that^ let the moral- 
ists say what they please, only some women 
deceive consciously, and some unconsciously, 
but not one would dare show her real true self. 
No more I suppose would any man. So we 
are quits there ! 

I felt too ill and depressed to go to Jermyn 
Street to-day. I woke with an aching head 
and that terrible fit of the blues still mastering 
me. I wired an excuse to Madame Gamier, 
had my breakfast in bed, and about two o’clock 
put on my bonnet, drove to the Circus and 
then walked down to Bond Street. 

“ Considering the time of year the day was 
wonderfully fine. A soft grey sky through 
which came glints of sunshine set me thinking 
of a new harmony in colour. Nature often 
gives us hints if we only care to utilize them. 
I had to thank a pansy once for one of my 
most successful combinations, the deep purple, 
the delicious gleam of gold and the faint green 


A RENCONTRE, 


173 


of the leaves were carried out to perfection. I 
was gazing abstractedly into the shop windows 
as I passed. How well I knew them all ! Red- 
mayne’s, Nicole's, Russell and Allen’s, Char- 
bonnel’s dainty confectionery — Atkinson’s ex- 
quisite perfumes, Trufitt’s marvels in coiffures 
— Storr and Mortimer’s tempting display of 
gems and parures and gold and silver plate. 
From there I crossed the road and moved by 
some freak of fancy found myself entering the 
Dore Gallery. 

“ It was comparatively empty. I took a seat 
opposite my favourite ‘ Christ leaving the Prae- 
torium’ and sat there in that state of dreamy 
indolence which with me is the reaction of 
very strong emotion. Several people were 
moving about criticizing the enormous car- 
toons and talking in that subdued whisper 
which is the characteristic of the British public 
in the presence of Art. 

“ Among them I noted a tall figure — a close 
cropped head of fair hair, a back and shoulders 
that had something familiar about them. I 
bent eagerly forward. The head slightly 
turned. It was Jack Enderleigh ! 

For a moment the shock and surprise of 
seeing him turned me faint and trembling as 
any love-sick schoolgirl. Then as my nerves 


174 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Steadied themselves I discovered he was not 
alone. Two ladies were beside him, one el- 
derly, in furs and velvets, the other young and 
pretty in dark green cloth and astrachan. A 
jealous pang shot through my heart. I took 
in every detail of the tall slight figure, the glint 
of pale gold hair knotted at the back of the 
head, even the bunch of violets nestled among 
the astrachan of her perfectly cut jacket. She 
was young — probably not twenty — and I — 
Well, the less said about age the better. I 
know I did not look thirty. I watched them 
closely. A feeling I had never experienced in 
my life before was wringing my very heart 
with sharp pain. 

I had left Jack abruptly — I had not written 
to him — I had never even given him any defi- 
nite answer to his avowal of love — but yet all 
this time I had had an instinctive feeling that 
he was mine — only mine. That at some 
future time I would call him to my side, 
and 

“Well, up to the present my thoughts had 
never gone further than that. But now the 
fact of seeing him before me again, handsomer 
than ever, and all attention to another woman 
drove me desperate. 

“I wondered how I was looking? I was 


A RENCONTRE. 


175 


always well dressed for the street, but I thought 
to-day I might have been more becomingly so. 
However, my mind was made up. Speak to 
Jack I must, in spite of a hundred girls. I 
rose and sauntered slowly after the trio. 

Presently they turned and glanced up the 
long room. Jack’s eyes met mine. I saw him 
start and flush to his very brows. He made 
some hurried apology to his companion, and 
in another instant was holding my hand and 
looking all his honest soul into my eyes. 

“ ‘ Fancy meeting you like this I Why have 
you treated me so badly? You promised me 
your address and I’ve been patiently waiting 
for it. How well you’re looking !’ — (this re- 
proachfully). 

“I murmured something incoherent — busi- 
ness — worries — engagements — in any case he 
didn’t heed them. He was too much occupied 
in looking at me. 

“My jealous fears died out. I saw he was 
still ‘ captive of my bow and spear.’ 

“ * You are with friends ?’ I said at last. 

“‘Yes, worse luck! An aunt and cousin, 
and they would go picture-gallerying. I hate 
it. I’m staying there for Christmas, Stanhope 
Crescent. Where are you ? Couldn’t I call ? 
Are you engaged this evening ?’ 


i;6 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


“ ‘ No/ I said. ' But Fm only at a boarding- 
house ; it’s wretched.’ 

“ ‘ Can I come and take you out to dinner ? 
Cafe Royal — Blanchard’s — where you like? 
Say yes, there’s a darling. I can’t stay here 
now.’ 

“I looked at him. His blue eyes were 
glowing, his handsome face was all fire and 
eagerness. Not the coldest woman in Chris- 
tendom, not even Ouida’s Vera could have 
resisted Jack when he looked like that. I was 
not a cold woman and I have always heartily 
despised Vera as both a prig and a fool. 

“ I pressed his hand and said ‘ Yes.’ 

went back to Gower Street after that 
meeting. I was in wild spirits. For years 
past I had not felt so happy, or so light of 
heart. I had never imagined I cared so much 
for Jack till I saw him again. I had loved and 
thought I loved other men, but for no man yet 
have I experienced the feeling that he had 
aroused. And the knowledge had sprung upon 
me so suddenly. I could scarcely realize even 
now that I was the slave of a passion that left 
me again at a man’s mercy, that would make 
for me ‘ la pluie et le beau temps' of days to 
come, that threatened the old sweet wild rest- 


A RENCONTRE. 1/7 

less torments at once so desired and unde- 
sirable, that mean — Love. 

“ Love, just love, pure and simple. I asked 
no more — cared for no more. I only wanted 
Jack to love me and I wanted to allow my- 
self to love him. How idyllic and simple it 
sounded ! How young it made me feel . . . 

“Young! Good God! I, with my stained 
life behind me — I who had been wedded, 
widowed, divorced, to young ! I laughed in 
bitter mockery of myself — the true self, the self 
that I knew as no other soul in the world knew it. 

“ For a moment the old hateful recoil shook 
me with its old terror. Life for me was full 
of risks and uncertainty. I had no right to 
entrap this strong honest young heart, no 
right to lead him on to the shame and misery 
and remorse that could alone be the result. 
Better far to let him go — he was young, life 
was all before him. He would meet -women 
fairer, worthier, better . . . Ugh ! the old cant. 
How well one knows it ! Just as if all the fair, 
worthy, estimable women in the world ever 
seem the same to a man as the one woman he 
desires, and on whom his heart is set. And 
Jack's heart is mine, I feel sure, and I — love 
him madly, desperately. I won’t fight against 
fate any more. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


AN AWKWARD MEETING. 

“ By the time I had had a cup of strong tea 
I had again recovered my spirits, and reckless- 
ness was in the ascendant. I selected a be- 
coming though essentially quiet costume, and 
my appearance was sufficient to excuse a fair 
amount of vanity. But it is a mistake to sup- 
pose that because a woman knows she is 
handsome, she is therefore vain. Nature has 
so constituted the sex that we are rarely satis- 
fied with ourselves, however much admiration 
we may arouse. A fair woman envies her 
brunette sister, and vice versa, A classic beauty 
longs to be piquante — a piquante one to be 
classical. The tall slender figure envies the 
plump proportions of her rival, and the plump 
charmer covets the length of limb and grace 
of carriage denied herself. 

“ To-night in spite of Lutie's fervent admira- 
tion and the flattering picture presented by my 
cheval glass I was mentally contrasting myself 
with that graceful, golden-haired girl who had 

178 


AN AWKWARD MEETING. 1 79 

been Jack’s companion in the picture-gallery 
— a cousin, he had said. That charming and 
convenient relationship which excuses so much 
and demands so little. 

“ However, by the time the hansom rattled 
up to the door and I heard the welcome knock 
I was In pretty good conceit with myself. Had 
I needed assurance of my satisfactory appear- 
ance Jack’s first glance gave it me. He said 
nothing, however, which showed his good taste. 

‘ I was thinking of taking you to Prevltali’s,* 
he said. ‘ They give you a rattling good din- 
ner there, and it’s so convenient for the 
theatres. Have you any choice ?’ 

“ ‘ None whatever,’ I said gaily. * I am quite 
content with yours.’ 

“ I knew Prevltali’s well. I had dined there 
in my honeymoon days — and since then with 
D’Arcy. I hoped none of my old friends 
would be there. But even if they were, none 
were likely to know Jack. As for what they 
thought, I had long passed the stage of caring 
for that. I knew no one was ‘straight’ and 
no situation innocent, to their limited and 
degraded minds. I was just in one of my 
worst and most reckless moods. ‘ Let us eat 
and drink for to-morrow we die,’ was the 
feeling uppermost In my mind. ‘ Come what 


l8o A WOMAN IN IT, 

may I shall have had my day’ as our refined 
Laureate puts the same sentiment. I would 
take this one good hour which Fate had sent 
me and let to-morrow bring what it might. 

“We soon rattled off to Leicester Square 
in the hansom Jack had kept waiting, — to the 
envy of Lutie and the boarders who were 
flattening their noses against the wire blind of 
the dining-room window, under the impression 
that the darkness of the night concealed them. 
We did not speak much on our way. I was 
too happy, and Jack — well, I cannot answer 
for him but he looked radiant enough. 

“The dining-room was fairly full when we 
entered, but Jack managed to secure a table 
in a quiet corner. I chose the seat facing the 
room. He sat with his back to it. I had 
reason to be thankful for that arrangement 
before the dinner was over. 

“ Everything was admirable, and Jack was 
gradually subsiding into that more than amiable 
and spooney condition characteristic of good 
digestion, perfect cooking and choice wines 
which so often leads man into mischief and 
renders him such an easy prey to the ‘ wily’ 
sex. We were at dessert, coffee and liqueurs, 
when the stir of a new arrival made me look 
across to a neighbouring table. I pray my 


AN AWKWARD MEETING. iSl 

nerves were under control, for who should face 
me in the glow of the shaded lamps but — 
D’Arcy and Rosalie Brunet. Swift as thought 
my eyes fell on my plate and I toyed with the 
grapes and went on talking with as much 
unconcern as I could summon to my assistance. 
But for one brief moment I felt murderous. 

“ All the wrong that brute had done, all the 
misery he had caused me rose like a choking 
flood and swept all pure and better emotions 
away on the tide of its black memories. And 
with this man — this arch fiend — was my bitter 
enemy, the woman who had sworn to injure me. 

What mischief were they plotting, I won- 
dered ! What had brought them together ? 
They had not seen me, but I knew they were 
bound to do so soon. From under my lashes 
I noted Rosalie’s faultless toilette of black 
faille and lace — the gleam of diamonds (Pa- 
risian, I suppose), the whole irreproachable sim- 
plicity which is at once so chic and inexplicable, 
and which only a Frenchwoman understands. 

“ They seemed in earnest conversation. 
There was no flirting — no little minauderies at 
that table. Business pure and simple seemed 
to have brought them there and they pro- 
ceeded to discuss it with all seriousness. Ro- 
salie spied me first. I saw her start — and then 

i6 


i 82 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


say something to her companion. I had pre- 
pared myself by that time. I met his sur- 
prised glance calmly and unconsciously, with- 
out a sign of recognition. I saw the old hateful 
look in his eye — the old hateful smile on his 
thin lips. How diabolically handsome the man 
was ! No wonder women 

“Jack spoke to me here and I arrested my 
vagrant thoughts and answered him trying to 
forget that obnoxious presence. But some 
fatal attraction made me look again. He was 
watching me. As our eyes met he raised his 
glass, touched it with his lips, and deliber- 
ately — winked. 

“The hot blood that rushed in a burning 
tide to my face seemed suddenly reflected in 
Jack’s. For the first time I remembered he 
faced the mirror which reflected those opposite 
tables. He must have seen the incident. 

“He half turned — his eyes ablaze with fury. 

“ ‘ Who’s that d — d cad ? Do you know 
him ?’ he exclaimed. 

“I was terribly alarmed. ‘For goodness’ 
sake, don’t make a scene,’ I implored. ‘ I 
daresay he’s drunk, and thought I was look- 
ing at him.’ 

“‘You were,’ said Jack wrathfully, ‘I saw 
you in the glass.’ 


AN AWKWARD MEETING, 183 

“ ‘ You are mistaken,’ I answered coldly. ‘ I 
was looking at his companion, and when I 
tell you who she is you won’t wonder at my 
curiosity.’ 

“ He turned round again and faced me en- 
quiringly. 

“ ‘ Do you remember,’ I said, in a low voice, 
' the Frenchwoman who gave evidence at the 
inquest on Mrs. Oldreeve ?’ 

‘ Yes — you don’t mean to say ’ 

“ ‘ That is the woman. She was Mrs. Old- 
reeve’s maid.’ 

“ * But who is the man ?’ 

‘ Oh, some valet I suppose,’ I said indiffer- 
ently. ‘ Doubtless he mistook my interest for 
admiration. I suppose he has had more cham- 
pagne than he can stand.’ 

“ ‘ Still,’ said Jack, ‘ I’d like to let him know 
I’ll have none of his insolence.’ 

“ ‘ Hush, hush, for goodness’ sake,’ I im- 
plored. ‘I have such a horror of scenes. 
What good can it do to make a fuss ? We’ve 
finished our dinner now. Let us go.’ 

‘“With all my heart,’ he said eagerly. 
‘We’ll just be in time for the Comedy. ‘I’ve 
got a box.’ 

“ He had sent a commissionaire to secure 
seats at one of the adjoining theatres while we 


184 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


were dining, and the man had returned a few 
moments before. I rose with alacrity and he 
helped me on with my cloak, then paid the 
bill, and we left the restaurant without passing 
the obnoxious table or giving another glance 
at its occupants. But all my evening was 
spoilt. The barometer of my variable spirits 
sank lower and lower. Hawtrey’s inimitable 
Tying’ could not rouse a smile, and Lottie 
Venn’s witcheries could not beguile me into 
forgetfulness. All the old hateful past was 
back with me again. The smirch of its black- 
ness seemed thick upon my soul — the memory 
of its degradation weighed upon me like Chris- 
tian’s burthen as he waded through the Slough 
of Despond. 

I was wading through my slough once 
more, I, who a brief hour ago had deemed it 
possible to forget — to blot out the old hateful 
past — and live life anew ! 

I think Jack was puzzled by my changed 
mood. It chilled his own ardour and made 
him as depressed and constrained as myself. 
Before the piece was over I signified my desire 
to go home. He rose at once. His clear 
eyes looked concerned and wistful as they met 
mine. 


AN A WKWARD MEETING, 185 

“ * I am afraid/ he said, * it has been a very 
stupid evening for you/ 

“ ‘ It has been delightful,* I said. ‘ But I 
think I’m out of sorts and out of spirits. I 
have had a great many worries lately, and 
I suppose that they’re beginning to tell upon 
me.’ 

“ He said nothing — theUy only gave me his 
arm and we went down the staircase and in 
another moment were whirling through the 
gas-lit streets on the noiseless tires of my 
favourite vehicle. Suddenly he bent forward 
and took one ungloved hand in his own warm 
one. 

“‘You make me so unhappy,’ he said. ‘I 
can’t endure this sort of suspense. I thought 
you cared for me a little at Coombe Abbot — 
but since then you’ve kept me without a word. 
You know I love you, Nina ; can’t you give 
me a word of hope ?’ 

“The magnetism of his touch thrilled me. 
I left my hand in his strong warm clasp and 
vainly strove to calm myself and answer him 
rationally. Something in me stronger than 
myself formed my words, and they were spoken 
irreclaimably before I could help the impulse. 

“ ‘ I do love you — but ’ 

No buts or ifs, for God’s sake,’ he cried, 

16* 


A IVOMAN IN IT. 


1 86 

impetuously. ‘I only want to know that. 
Nothing else matters.* 

“ How young he must be to have said that, 
I thought. 

‘‘ I felt my heart contract. The hateful facts 
of my hateful life arrayed themselves against 
his trust, against my own desires ; but I could 
not tell him — not then. 

I wonder is a woman’s last love dearer to 
her than her first ? I think so. Life is slip- 
ping on to that hateful borderland where lie 
the graves of youth and beauty. Time is her 
friend no longer. The man who loves her 
knowing these things must love her for some- 
thing deeper than mere personal charms, and 
she feels the value of that love now as she 
never could have felt it when her heart held no 
memories and love was still ideal. 

“ What a struggle was going on within me 
had he only known. 

“I heard him speaking. The dark night 
was all about us, broken here and there by 
gleams from the street lamps as the cab rolled 
smoothly along the dark and quiet thorough- 
fares. His arm was round me — its firm pos- 
sessive pressure seemed instinct with promise 
of comfort, and I had been lonely so long. 
What wonder my courage failed ? I yielded 


AN AWKWARD MEETING, 187 

to that gentle strength — I let my head fall on 
his shoulder. My eyes closed. 

“I felt only the burning touch of his lips 
on mine as the wheels glided noiselessly on 
through the fog and gloom of the winter 
night.^^ 


CHAPTER XIX. 


REMORSE. 


December 20th. 

** I WONDER what possessed me to take up 
the old folly of keeping a diary ? It is at once 
an enslaving and compromising habit. And 
yet — now I have commenced it again — I feel 
irresistibly compelled to continue. 

“It is a relief sometimes to pour out my 
vagaries, feelings, sentiments and sensations, 
to a confidante at once so safe and so unex- 
acting. I have vowed again and again I will 
not do it, and again and again have broken 
that vow and let my pen be the living witness 
to my misdeeds or caprices. Sometimes I 
envy those good placid women who live un- 
eventful lives, for whom Fate has only pre- 
pared a useful drab coloured garment war- 
ranted weather proof, instead of the fragile, 
gorgeous tinted thing that covers up the sins 
and passions and follies of their weaker sisters. 
And yet — had I my choice — I would choose to 

live, not to stagnate. To have the full sweet 
1S8 


REMORSE, 


189 


hours — the gorgeous colouring — the reckless 
delirious enjoyment — the sense of revelling in 
and tasting every delight and every joy of 
sense and soul ! 

‘*It may be wrong but we are as we are, and 
I don’t know why we should be blamed for 
being so. The cow chews the cud, the lioness 
roams the jungle. Natural history classifies 
both — and talks of the laws of Nature. In 
like manner the purring cat by the fireside and 
the fierce tigress of the forest exemplify those 
laws and no one blames them. I think women 
are very like — both. Some prefer the fireside, 
the cream, the comfort : others — the roving 
life, the tangled woods, the starlit nights, the 
fierce wild joy of prey, the subtle sense of 
mastery, peril, danger, escape — all that is 
tumultuous and emotional. Certainly if I had 
been an animal I would have chosen to be a 
tigress rather than a cow. Being a woman 

“ Whatever is the use of writing all this 
stuff? Am I so weak that I keep putting off 
the evil moment — even here, to my own self, 
to my one confidante ? Bah ! Why palter 
with facts any longer ? Let me face the results 
of my own folly. What am I to say to Jack 
to-morrow f 

“ I put him off to-night. He was content to 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


190 

know I loved him, and we left all discussion as 
to the future until our next meeting. 

“ It is long past midnight now. Already the 
fateful ‘to-morrow’ is with me and I am no 
more prepared to meet it than I was when I 
bade him good-night at the door. 

“ My own position is still my secret. I know 
I cannot wrong him and I daren’t tell him why. 
I daren’t confess to that loyal clean soul of his 
what a bad woman I have been. I can’t nerve 
myself to see those dear eyes shrink from sight 
of mine — and watch the change from love to 
loathing which would be the inevitable result. 

“Oh, why did I let myself care for him? 
Fool to ask myself that now ! It’s too late to 
draw back. I love him with the last despairing 
love of a desperate woman. Fate must decide 
the consequence. 


7 p.m. 

“ The old routine of the day is over. I said 
nothing to Rosalie about that rencontre last 
night. But I did not like the look in her eyes 
or the sneer with which she greeted me. Of 
course she knows my story now — D’Arcy 
would have told her. It is only another in- 
stance of his low mind to associate himself with 


REMORSE, 


19I 

such a creature — in public. I feel humiliated 
at the very thought that I ever allowed myself 
to be duped by him ; of all he has cost me, of 
the harm he might still do me did he choose. 

“At present I am quite in the dark as to 
his intentions, but I confess I don’t feel at ease. 
The man is treacherous. I have proved that 
before, and I cannot believe he has resumed 
the intimacy with Rosalie Brunet without some 
strong motive. 

“The weary day is over. I am alone and 
waiting for Jack. He is to be here at half- 
past eight, and I am no more prepared what 
to say to him than I was when we parted last 
night. Shall I trust to my happy-go-lucky 
Irish inspiration? We are not so much liars 
as inventors, and exaggerators. A plain bold 
fact looks so much better with a little fanciful 
embroidery about it. But alas ! what em- 
broidery can I put to the ugly truth that I am 
a divorced woman not yet legally freed from 
an obnoxious tie ! 

“ There are always the papers to refer to and 
he could read the whole case for himself, the 
moment I mentioned my real name. 

“ But why need I mention it ? The written 
words show me a loop-hole of escape. Shall 
I take it? Let me think. Ah, too late . . . 


192 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


the sound of wheels — the bell. Jack is here 
already. Chance must decide. 


Night. 

'*Two hours ago and I was in his arms 
listening to the sweetest tenderest words that 
ever were balm to a heart so bruised and 
aching as mine. Two hours ago he was en- 
treating me to marry him — fortune, name, 
position, wealth, were all at my feet and I — 
could not accept them. 

‘‘ Fve been a fool but Fve been honest. IFs 
a poor satisfaction now. I could almost tear 
out the tongue that betrayed me, the weakness 
that overcame me, for — I’ve lost Jack. Lost 
the fondest, truest-hearted lover woman ever 
had — ^lost him for ever ! 

“ Here as I sit, crushed and humiliated, I 
live over that terrible scene. I see the white 
change in his face, the shudder in his strong 
young frame, the recoil from my imploring 
hands. And I love him so dearly. I love 
him fifty thousand times more than I did before 
I spoke those hateful words. 

“I feel like one long blind on whom a sudden 
sense of light has burst. But it was a light 
that showed me my own self, reflected in a 
man’s hurt and tortured soul. The compul- 


REMORSE. 


193 


sion I was under to paint all, to spare him 
nothing, was the mad reckless compulsion of 
the tyrant — self; that inner, truer self which 
at rare times flashes out in me and generally 
puts me to shame. 

“Well, I have done for myself now. The 
worst side of me — the tigress side of which I 
have before spoken — got the better for once. 
The more shocked he was the more unsparing 
and reckless I grew. There was a fierce wild 
joy in letting the animal leap out of his cage, 
in lashing it to fury, in seeing it return cowed 
and beaten by pain — that deep human pain for 
another’s suffering which for the first time in 
my life touched me more than my own. 

“ All the lax self-indulgence — the folly and 
frivolity of years were paid off in that one 
moment. I had never been a woman of ‘ good 
principles.’ I had never denied my own desires, 
but now by some supreme effort I had felt 
capable of doing both and — I had my re- 
ward. 

“Let the moralists howl as they may, no 
wrong has ever yet escaped the penalty of 
misdeeds: sooner or later it demands the utter- 
most farthing. Generally at some supreme 
moment when life is at its fullest and sweetest, 
the inexorable Shylock demands and presents 

I n 17 


194 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


his claim. Writhe — weep — implore as you 
may, you shall not escape him, for the bond is 
there and the hour of payment also — and 
Portia is not. 

Minute by minute — hour by hour the long 
night lengthens. Crushed — broken — humili- 
ated, I still sit here asking myself why I did 
this. I might have invented a hundred plausi- 
ble tales, and spared him the true one. I go 
over the hideous tragedy that has grown around 
my life in so short a time — murder — love — 
jealousy — suffering — and always a woman in 
it. Ah ! The woman whom I loathe and hate 
to-night, with all my full and tortured soul — 
myself ! 

“Well, there can be nothing more now to 
happen. Surely Fate has done its worst. I, 
who cry so easily, cannot cry now. I, so 
wretched and friendless, have no pity left for 
myself. Whatever cup of suffering is given 
to drink, be it filled up — running over with its 
nauseous draught — I shall drink it, and say 
‘ it is deserved.' What I saw in that young 
face to-day has changed me as no trial or 
trouble hitherto has been able to do. His 
life will never be the same again. A woman 
came into it and has spoilt it all. 


REMORSE. 195 

“ How sharp and hateful is this pain ! . . . 
How my eyes burn and my head throbs ! 

“ All the long dreary night is before me. I 
and my thoughts to bear each other company. 
Shall I go mad, or finish that laudanum ? 

6 A.M. 

‘‘The morning again. The hateful grey 
foggy morning of a London winter’s day. 

“I am not dead. I am still hugging my 
wretchedness to my aching breast. I haven’t 
the courage to kill myself. 

“I don’t know what may come after. No 
priest or cleric can tell me. The Inevitable 
End is as much a thing of dread to them as 
to me — or any other mortal. I will wait a 
little longer before taking that ‘leap in the 
dark.’ How do I know that 

“Away with such folly ! If I live it is with- 
out hope, without prospects, without peace of 
mind. It is to see myself still the struggling 
adventuress — husbandless — childless — with 
fading beauty and failing health, and broken 
heart, going down the hill of life unpitied and 
unloved. A pleasant prospect truly ! 

“ I look back on these thirty years. What 
have they meant for me? Vexation — trial — 
sorrows — worries without end. False love — 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


196 

false hope. The world would say I have seen 
my best years. My best ! God’s pity then on 
those to come. 

7.30 A.M. 

“ I heard the postman's knock just now up 
and down the street. I can’t tell what feeling 
prompts me to listen so intently, what pre- 
sentiment thrills me so strangely. As if Jack 
would write — as if all that could be said has 
not been said — as if to him I must not seem 
the vilest woman on God’s earth. Ah me . . . 
and I loved you so, Jack ... I loved you as I 
have never loved any man before. Too well 
to deceive you — too well to think of myself. 

“ Rat-tat — rat-tat ! It is here. Shall I obey 
my impulse and go downstairs to see if there 
is a letter for me. Bah, what a silly weak fool ! 
as if ... I must go. I cannot bear the sus- 
pense. Mary Jane never brings up the letters. 
They are always put on our plates at the break- 
fast table. I will run downstairs and end my 
misery. 


8 A.M. 

There was a letter from him. 

‘‘ How my heart beat — how my hand shook 
as I took it ! How long it was before I could 


REMORSE. 


197 


summon courage to open it. And when I did 
how the letters swam before my dazed and 
burning eyes — how only one word lived and 
framed itself before them — ‘ Nina.' 

“He called me that still ... in spite of all ! 
Surely the tears that gushed from my eyes as 
I pressed that word to my lips, might have 
washed away the plague spots even of such a 
heart as mine. 

“‘Nina,' he said, ‘I can't believe it — even 
now. You have been wronged — you have been 
shamefully used — but you were not the sinner. 
I can't believe it and I won't. Let us forget 
what was said. I love you — only you — always 
you — whatever you are — or may have been. I 
can't face the future and feel it doesn't hold 
you, that I shall never hear your voice — see 
your eyes — feel your kiss again. If I am mad, 
you have made me mad. I never loved before, 
but till I saw you I seemed to have never lived 
before. How can I give you up ? ... Is there 
no way out of it ? 

“ ‘ If you were free . . . The world lies all 
before us . . . We could be happy together, 
if you only love me as I love you. I can't 
struggle against this feeling unless you say it 
is hopeless, and you carUt say that for I know 
you love me. A woman who had the courage 

17* 


198 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


to speak as you spoke, can’t be a bad woman ! 
I won’t believe it. Unfortunate — reckless per- 
haps, but not what you called yourself, my 
darling — not what would put an impossible 
gulf between your life and mine. The fasci- 
nation you have for me drives me back to you 
despite all you told me — despite reason — sense 
— will ; despite everything that would call itself 
a barrier. Say something — do something. 
Give me only one word — only one hope, how- 
ever frail to cling to. My heart is broken, but 
my life is yours — Do with it as you will !’ 

That was all. There were blurred lines — 
blotted words. I wonder had his tears fallen 
on them ? . . His tears. Oh Jack, my heart 
— that you should weep for one so vile and so 
unworthy ! 

T 

** I put the letter away. How could I answer 
it. How dared I ? All my sins stood up and 
stared me in the face. I wasn’t fit to touch 
his hand, and he — loved me. 

‘‘Was it only the mad passion of youth? 
Would it die out as flame dies after one brief 
spurt of life ? If I took him at his word — if I 
held out the hope he prayed for, would he not 
repent and regret for all the years to come ? 


REMORSE. 


199 


‘‘I knew myself. He only knew what he 
imagined me to be. I could give the answer 
to my own question. He could only wait for 
the disenchantment of Time to whisper it to 
him. 

“ The weary day went by. I did my work 
as usual — hating it and hating myself for doing 
it, but at best it kept me from thinking. I knew 
the task before me. I knew I must go home 
and answer that letter. I had left him all day 
in suspense. It was cruel . . and I shrank 
from inflicting further pain. 

“ If only he had been like other men. . . If 
only I had not loved him so much. That love 
had grown to giant strength in these past 
hours. It tempted me as no other feeling had 
ever tempted me before. And yet — something 
— that unerring instinctive feminine conviction 
which defies logic, told me that I was not the 
woman to make him happy — to complete his 
life. I thought of the fair pure face of the 
golden-haired cousin, and a jealous pang shot 
through my heart. 

“She would be a better and more fitting 
wife. Why could he not have loved her ? 

“The day passed. At six o’clock I left Jer- 
mym Street and walked home. I chose the 


200 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


exercise purposely. I was in the state of 
mind that demands movement and activity. 
The answer to that letter weighed on my mind. 
I could not determine what to make it. 

** Did Fate pity, or intend to drive me des- 
perate, that suddenly as I crossed Bloomsbury 
Square I met Jack Enderleigh face to face 


CHAPTER XX, 

TRUTH IN A lie! 

** My heart gave one quick throb, then sank 
like lead — and I turned faint and cold as I read 
the story of those past hours in that haggard 
young face. He made one quick step forward 
and then — stopped I 

* What a lucky chance to meet you I* he 
said hoarsely. ‘ I was trying to pass the time 
till I might expect you at Gower Street.' 

“ Passively I looked at him — passively I let 
him retain my hand. The quiet old square 
was quite deserted. We were as much alone 
as if the great City’s life had ceased to throb 
around us. 

‘ Won't you speak ?' he said at last. ‘ Did 
you get my letter ? Can't you /eel how I’m 
suffering ?' 

“ ‘ I was going home,’ I said, ‘ to answer 
it.' 

** * What would you have said ?’ he asked. 

I was silent. I did not know what I would 

have said — now. I had had no very clear idea 

201 


202 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


before, but his presence confused me so that I 
could not think. I could only feel. 

'‘He drew a sudden sharp breath. ' My 
God !’ he said, ' how cruel women are !* 

"That speech stabbed me to the heart. I 
knew his pain by my own. And yet to serve 
him best I must hurt him more. His presence 
had unnerved me, but it showed me again how 
impossible was the road to happiness. How 
vain to think of it. 

" ' Jack,’ I said, trying hard to steady my 
voice. 'What I told you was true. I can’t 
marry you — I’m not fit to be a good man’s 
wife. If — for a little while I let you forget, 
some day you would repent and regret. Some 
day you would turn on me and upbraid me 
with my past. I know men and I know — love. 
You are giving me a gift I’m not worthy of. 
Take it back. Believe me the day will come 
when you’ll thank me for saying this . . . Our 
lives must lie apart. . . There is no help 
for it’ 

" ' They shall not,’ he said. ' If — you love 
me.’ 

" The imperative note in his voice was like 
music in my ears. Who that loves does not 
love also to be ruled, dominated, mastered, by 
the one power that can master ? The sweet- 


TRUTH IN A LIE! 


203 


est triumph of my life was this hour when I 
saw Fate defied, and Life itself swaying in the 
balance with — me. 

‘“I do love you, M said. *It is useless to 
deny it. But I will not have you ashamed of 
me. I will not allow you to marry me.* 

‘*‘1 will do it,’ he said. ‘In spite of you. 
I am young — I can afford to wait, and I shall 
wait.’ 

“ I looked at him hopelessly and helplessly. 
I thought of Justin D’Arcy — of Jasper Old- 
reeve — and a shudder ran through me. 

“ ‘ Oh,’ I cried weakly. ‘ It is you who are 
cruel now. You drive me to desperation. I 
tell you I can’t marry you. It is impossible. 
Haven’t I told you I’m not free ?’ 

“ ‘ Money can do most things,’ he said 
doggedly, ‘ and most men have their price. I 
will buy your freedom.’ 

“ His words stung me to the quick. The 
obstinacy of his passion was so strange when 
I looked at his face and remembered his 
youth. 

“ Rage mastered me. I snatched my hand 
from his and faced him in sudden fury. 

“‘You insult me!’ I cried passionately. 

‘ Am I a slave to be bought ? — A thing to be 
bargained for ? I tell you again it is impos- 


204 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


sible that we can ever be anything more to 
each other than we are at present. Even if I 
were free ’ 

‘‘ ‘ Well ?’ he said eagerly as I paused. 

A sudden thought flashed to my brain — 
born of desperation I think, so hateful and so 
vile it was — but for his sake I grasped it. It 
offered escape . . . and the drowning clutch at 
straws, they say. 

“ ‘ Even if I were free — * I said unsteadily, 
‘I could not marry you because — some one 
else — has a prior claim.' 

“ He stood like a stone and stared at me 
with blank unseeing eyes. Then one word 
escaped him — ‘ Who ?' 

'“Jasper Oldreeve,' I said, and as I said it 
the night seemed only to hold the echo of a 
curse, as he turned and left me standing by 
the cold iron railings of the square. 

" I had done my work effectually at last. 

" Have hours passed — or days — or weeks ? 
It seems all so long ago as I write of it. Such 
a long, long time ago ! 

" How tired I am. To-night I must force 
sleep if it will not come. Heart and brain 
cannot stand the strain that mine have stood, 
and not suffer for it. 


TRUTH IN A LIE! 


205 


“ The change in myself puzzles me. A few 
months ago I was a different woman. Nothing 
— and no one should have stood in the way of 
my interests. And now all those interests are 
centred in another life. I don’t care about my 
own any longer. 

“ And yet — he is only a man. Doubtless 
he would be as other men have been — once 
I was his own possession. Surely I know 
them well enough to distrust all. A year ago 
how I hated them — a year ago my life was full 
of planning and excitement — a year ago 

A restless night in spite of my draught. 
I rose feverish and wretched, with aching head 
and depressed spirits. I could not go to Jer- 
myn Street. 

Madame Gamier is beginning to complain 
of my frequent absences. Let her complain. 
She cannot easily replace me and I am sick 
of the business. God knows I’ve never had 
much cause to love my own sex, but I’ve only 
had cause to despise them since I went to the 
‘ Parisian Toilet Repository.’ Vain — foolish — 
mean — egotistical ! Why do men bother their 
heads about us ? 

Lutie is distressed about me. I won’t take 
her into my confidence. I won’t tell her about 
18 


206 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Jack. She thinks it is on Jasper Oldreeve’s 
account I am so unsettled and capricious. 
Jasper Oldreeve ! I have my score to settle 
with him yet. I wish I could see him to-day. 
I think I would frighten him for once in his 
life. 

December 24th. 

It is so miserable here I almost wish I had 
gone to Jermyn Street after all. The grey 
foggy gloom faces me without — the grey blank 
of my prospects faces me within. Which is 
the worst ? 

** Shall I give it up and go abroad again ? I 
have plenty of money now — and there is 
always Monte Carlo. I should gain excite- 
ment if nothing else. I remember when I was 
there before 

‘‘ Oh Jack, Jack ! . . . My heart is one ache 
for you. Why didn’t I know you long ago, 
when I was comparatively a better woman? 
Why didn’t we meet when I was free ? 

“ Fool that I am to ask such questions. The 
past can’t be recalled. . . If it could — if it 
only could — how good and wise we would all 
be in the future. 

“ I regret to-day that I told Jack that lie. 
My freedom might come yet. At any moment 
I may have a letter from my lawyers to say 


TRUTH IN A LIE I 


207 


the barrier is removed. I could have invented 
an excuse — I could have put off any question 
of our immediate marriage. Why was I so 
honest — and so hard on myself? God, who 
made woman, can alone answer for her con- 
tradictions and impulses ! She doesn’t under- 
stand them any more than she understands 
herself. 


Xmas Day. 

had a fire lit in my bedroom and all 
day I have stayed there — planning, thinking, 
worrying myself into a nervous headache, and 
still as far as ever from a decision. 

“ I can’t stay here much longer — that I feel. 
I should go mad with the sheer wretchedness 
of my own thoughts. But where to go is the 
puzzle. Shall I try Monte Carlo once more ? 
Shall I throw myself into the old wicked 
feverish life ? 

A knock at the door. My peevish ‘ What 
is it?’ results in Mary Jane’s sooty face ap- 
pearing, and the usual grimy apron is intruded 
holding something towards me. 

“I take it with a sudden quick throb of 
heart that makes me faint and sick. A card 
— a mans card. So dizzy and blind I am I can 


208 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


scarcely read the printed name. Then I see 
Mr. Justin D' Arcy, The Sports Club. 

“ I spring up impetuously. ‘ Why did you 
not say I was not at home ?* 

“ Mary Jane gives her usual idiotic grin. 

“ ‘ I did, mum. The genl’man said he 
know’d better. His business is important 
and 'e must see you.’ 

Must ! D’Arcy to insist on seeing me — 
what next, I wonder? Well, I am in a mood 
that promises an interesting interview. I send 
Mary Jane down to say I will see him in a few 
moments and I coolly finish these entries. 
Then, with one look at my glass, I lock up my 
desk and leave the room. 

4 P.M. 

‘Tf I was in a ‘bad’ mood an hour ago I 
wonder what I should call my present one? 
Devilish — I suppose. That man has always 
had the effect of making me feel I am worse 
than I believed myself. (Jack is the only man 
I ever met who made me feel better.) He 
greeted me with his usual cool airy insolence. 
D’Arcy never wasted his power of fascination 
on a woman unless there was something to 
be gained by it. 

“ ‘ What brings you here ?’ I said curtly — 
taking no notice of his outstretched hand. 


TRUTH IN A LIE! 


209 


He laughed. ‘You’re not over polite,’ he 
said. ‘ But I suppose that’s excusable. I 
wanted to see you. That is really my reason.’ 

“‘Why?’ 

“‘Won’t you sit down? It is so uncom- 
fortable talking to a person standing. And 
— really — you ought to be more agreeable. 
I’ve brought you some good news. Don’t 
look so scornful. It’s true. Will you just 
glance at this paragraph ?’ 

“He handed me a newspaper as he spoke. 
I saw it was a foreign one. I looked at the 
marked paragraph. It narrated an accident at 
Marseilles. The usual boating accident. Two 
gentlemen — an Italian and an Englishman — 
had gone for a sail in defiance of warnings — 
a sudden squall — boat upset — both drowned — 
the bodies not yet found. Names 

“No wonder I started and cried out incred- 
ulously. The name of the Englishman was 
Clement Garbett. 

“The paper dropped — he stooped and 
picked it up. 

“ ‘ Sad — isn’t it ?’ he queried coolly. ‘ Only 
it will save us a lot of trouble. You needn’t 
worry about the decree now ’ 

“ ‘ Us' I looked at the handsome audacious 
face and my heart contracted with a sudden fear. 

o 18* 


210 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


* It's quite authentic/ he went on, folding 
the paper as he spoke. ‘ I took the trouble 
of ascertaining that. I’ve a friend who knows 
the English Consul and he made all enquiries. 
The description and name leave no doubt. It 
was Garbett who was staying at the Grand 
Hotel — who made friends with this Italian 
Count — who was in that boat when it capsized.’ 

“ ‘ Clement was a good swimmer,’ I said 
absently. 

“ ‘ The best swimmer wouldn’t have much 
chance in one of those storms,’ he said. ‘ I 
know that sea well. . . Besides, every en- 
quiry has been made. . . if he had escaped 
some one would have known. It happened 
three weeks ago.’ 

'T drew a long deep breath. I was free 
once more. Heaven knows I had suffered 
enough at that man’s hands to make me wel- 
come such freedom. And yet, did I envy or 
feel sorry for him lying there under those deep 
dark waters ? 

“ ^ I thought I wouldn’t tell you till I was 
sure,’ he went on. ‘When I saw you the 
other night though, I determined not to delay. 
You see, I consider I’ve a prior claim to you 
— and it’s time you remembered it.’ 

“ My eyes looked at him steadily from head 


TRUTH IN A LIE! 


2II 


to foot. * If you Ve only come here to tell me 
thatl I said, ‘you are merely wasting your 
time and my patience/ 

“‘Ami?’ 

“ He seated himself at last and leant back, 
laughing softly. * I think you will change your 
opinion shortly,’ he went on. ‘You see I 
have it in my power to make things rather 
unpleasant for you with your new — friend.’ 

“The sneer was so hateful — the look so 
insolent — that if I had been a man I should 
have struck him to the ground. 

“ Being a woman I lost my temper. 

“ He waited till my storm of invective and 
accusation was over. Words could not pierce 
his armour, nor reproaches sting. He was 
well used to both. When I was exhausted he 
spoke. 

“ Shall I humiliate myself even here by tran- 
scribing that speech — shall I even to my own 
eyes paint the thing of shame and mockery 
he made me seem? No . . . the smirch and 
defilement of it is still upon my tortured heart 
— Let it lie there. Of course, I saw his pur- 
pose at last. It was the old story. He wanted 
money — badly — desperately. I stood in the 
proud position of the goose with the golden 
eggs. He would allow me to marry Ender- 


212 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


leigh if I promised him a sum down on my 
wedding day and an income thereafter to be 
decided. He was perfectly well acquainted 
with the young man’s position and prospects, 
and could calculate his chances to a degree. 

“ ‘ I could see he was gone on you,’ he went 
on, with brutal candour. ‘And I wouldn’t 
stand in your way if you’ll agree to this. 
Come — is it a bargain ? We’ve stood to each 
other through worse things, you know.’ 

“ My rage had evaporated. I felt nothing 
now but hatred and contempt. 

“‘A bargain,’ I said, ^ with, you? ... Not 
if my life depended on it. If your time is of 
any value you had better not waste it here. 
Allow me to wish you good morning.' 

“ 1 rose. He did the same. 

“ ‘ Is that your last word ?’ 

“ ‘ It is.’ 

“‘Then I’m d — d if I don’t go straight to 
Enderleigh and tell him your story. We’ll see 
if he’ll marry you then, my lady !’ 

“ ‘ It will be waste of time,’ I said coolly, ‘to 
make that call. Mr. Enderleigh has heard my 
story — already.’ 

“ He started. ‘ I don’t believe it,’ he said. 
‘He’s not the sort of man to put up with a 
woman like you.’ 


TRUTH IN A LIE! 


213 


“ (Oh ! the stab and pain of that speech — 
the bitterness that could only acknowledge its 
truth.) 

“ ‘ I won’t argue that point,’ I said. ^ I tell 
you again you can give no information to Mr. 
Enderleigh that will be any news to him, and 
if it is any satisfaction to you to hear it — I 
have not the slightest intention of marrying 
him — or anyone else.’ 

“ ‘ Stop,’ he thundered. ‘ Are you mad — or 
a fool ? Throw away a chance like this — deny 
yourself position and wealth? Why, he’ll 
come into 10,000 a year at his father’s 
death! You’re lying to me — I don’t believe 
you.’ 

I laid my hand on the bell. 

‘‘‘You are acquainted with Mr. Ender- 
leigh’s address,’ I said. ‘ Go and ask him if I 
have spoken the truth, or not.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXL 


A TANGLED V/EB. 

“ Oh, these men — these men ! What am I 
to do among them all ? . . . The insane pas- 
sion of Jasper Oldreeve — the insulting chan- 
tange of D’Arcy — the wasted misplaced love 
of Jack Enderleigh — all surround me at one 
and the same moment. Material enough here 
for a drama if one ever dared paint real life 
for the stage. No wonder I feel distracted — 
no wonder nerves and spirits are suffering. 

“ It is dreadful — it is unbearable. And the 
worst of it is I see no way out of it. 

‘‘Lutie has been up worrying and fuming 
round me for the last hour. Finally I lost my 
temper — and she beat a retreat. She is afraid 
I shall throw up my present employment in 
one of my fits of recklessness and then — well, 
Heaven knows what will happen then. I 
hardly care. 

“ If that man spoke the truth, I am free, but 
what is the use of freedom now ? 

I have burnt my boats behind me. Nothing 
can clear me in Jack’s eyes — nothing can make 

214 


A TANGLED WEB. 


215 


me worthy of him. Our lives lie apart for 
ever — and mine seems to be no longer worth 
living, I shall be ill if this strain continues — 
I feel it. Perhaps it is the best thing that 
could happen. 

‘‘ Now for my drops and to bed. 

“I am so worn out body and mind that I 
can’t even thinks much less write rationally any 
longer. 

January 4th. 

“A long gap. The so-called Christmas 
holidays are over. I spent them in bed in a 
state of collapse that almost threatened serious 
results. 

“ However, my good constitution triumphed 
and I am once more fit for the ‘work-a-day 
world’ ! 

'‘No one has troubled me for this past week, 
neither my two evil geniuses — nor my one 
good one. Heaven send they have forgotten 
me — but that is hardly possible. 

“ I went to Madame Garnier’s as usual this 
morning. Rosalie was not there. About eleven 
o’clock a lady was shown in. The page gave 
me her card. I read : — 

Mrs. Icarus B. Planefield^ 

Washingtoriy 

and was enlightened. 


2i6 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


^‘An exquisitely dressed little woman with 
the grey hair and premature wrinkles that 
characterize most American women, advanced 
to meet me. 

She spoke to the point and without cere- 
mony. 

‘“Fve heard so much of this establishment, 
I thought I must just give a look round while 
I’m in London. Are you the principal ?* 

“‘No,’ I said, ‘I am Madame Garnier’s 
partner. What can I do for you ?’ 

“She laughed. ‘Well, if you could fix me 
up to look twenty-two instead of thirty-five I’d 
be obliged. But I’m not going to ask you to 
do it. I hear that Madame Gamier has a 
wonderful specific for wrinkles. Is that so ?’ 

“ ‘ Y es,’ I answered, looking wonderingly at 
the fine network of lines in the clear soft skin 
— pale in hue and velvety in texture as a tea- 
rose. ‘ But it is a long and complex course 
of treatment.’ 

“ She laughed again. 

“‘I suppose it is. We’re awful fools, we 
women, to bother our heads about our appear- 
ance. We’re bound to go off. There’s no 
help for it. Look at me — you wouldn’t think 
I was the beauty of New York a few years ago 
— would you ?’ 


A TANGLED WEB, 


217 


‘ I have no doubt/ I said, * that you were. 
But your countrywomen don't wear well. We 
English get the better of you there.' 

“She looked at me thoughtfully and criti- 
cally. ‘You're right,' she said. “Why, you 
haven't a line on your face yet, and your hair 
is just lovely. I suppose it's impolite to say 
it, but I'm just dying to know if you're older 
than I am ?' 

“ ‘ To be frank with you,' I said, amused by 
her candour, ‘ I am just over thirty.’ 

“‘Five years difference,' she said, thought- 
fully. ‘ How much five years can do !' 

“I offered her a seat and explained that 
Madame Gamier would be free to see her in 
a quarter of an hour. She unfastened her veil 
and removed her hat. 

“ She was very pretty. The grey hair was 
exquisitely dressed — the delicate brows and 
azure blue eyes and pale skin were, to my 
mind, a thousand times more charming than 
any meretricious subterfuge. Against my own 
interests I spoke : — 

“‘What a pity,' I said, ‘to do anything to 
yourself.' 

“ She rose. ‘ Look here,' she said, approach- 
ing the glass. 

“ I followed. She raised the skin of her 
19 


K 


2I8 


WOMAN IN IT. 


forehead with two fingers, stretching it up- 
wards towards the soft grey hair. All the 
wrinkles disappeared as if by magic. 

“‘Now do you see,' she went on, ‘I want 
a tonic or something to tighten the skin. It 
makes me look a good ten years younger, 
doesn’t it? Fm not going to touch my hair. 
It’s too much bother and dyes smell so horribly, 
and then — your pillows ! Can your Madame 
Gamier do anything like that for me ?’ 

“ ‘ Oh yes — massage and a good astringent 
will do wonders,’ I said. 

“ She left the glass. 

“ ‘ Don’t think me a fool,’ she said frankly, 
‘but the truth is I’ve a Romance in my life 
and I want to see about its conclusion.’ 

“‘Yes?’ — I said, somewhat puzzled. 

“‘It’s a charming little Romance,’ she went 
on gravely. ‘ It began when I was seventeen 
— broke off a year later and now — I’m free to 
pursue, or attain it. The hero is a certain 
Lord Burlington. Perhaps you know him ?’ 

“ (I did — and not very favourably, but I 
merely shook my head.) 

“ ‘ He was only plain Jim Conyers when the 
romance began,’ she went on. “ Young, poor, 
ineligible. The Wheel of Life has brought 
me a fortune, and him a title and estate. I 


A TANGLED WEB. 


219 


am curious to ascertain what else it has done 
for him ! The Society papers have given me 
some information. He’s not married and he’s 
staying at his country seat, Barton Towers, in 
Hertfordshire. Well, when I’m fixed up a bit 
I mean to go and see him, and if he’s still of 
the same mind Fate shall end the Romance. 
There’s my story for you.’ 

“ ‘ It’s a very interesting story,’ I said. ‘ I 
hope it may have a happy ending.’ 

“ Something in my face or voice must have 
struck her notice, for she looked at me with 
keen enquiring eyes. 

“‘You say that,’ she said, ‘as if — you had 
known a story without one.’ 

“ ‘ I have known a great many,’ I answered. 

“‘Perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘your own? 
Don’t think I’m curious. I’m only interested — 
deeply. Your face is very eloquent’ 

“ I was silent I had had no previous ex- 
perience of customers who found my face 
anything but an advertisement 

“ ‘ Most people,’ I said evasively, ‘ have 
some trouble or another. I’m not an excep- 
tion ; I hope you may be.’ 

“ Her face took an added shadow of 
gravity. 

“ ‘ Thanks for the hope,’ she said, ‘but even 


220 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


money wouldn't keep trouble away. You'd 
be surprised if you knew how lonely I am — 
how few people I can trust. How often I 
doubt if I’ve one real friend among the hun- 
dreds of men and women I know.' 

‘‘ ‘ Yes ?’ I said, somewhat absently. 

“She glanced round the room with ap- 
proving eyes for a few seconds of silence. 

“ ‘ It's very artistic,' she said. ‘ They couldn't 
do it better in New York, Who designed it 
all ?’ 

“ ‘ I did,' I said modestly, ‘ at least so far as 
colouring and arrangement go.' 

“ ‘ It's a lady's taste,' she said thoughtfully. 
‘One can't help recognising that — I suppose 
now that’s quite a natural gift to you ?' 

“‘Well,’ I said smiling, T suppose it is. 
I’m always told I have a good eye for colour.' 

“ ‘ How long have you been at this ?’ she 
asked quickly, with a glance at the parcels on 
the table. 

“ ‘ Only a few months.' 

“ ‘ And do you like it ?' 

“ ‘ I’m getting rather tired of it — now. It’s 
not exactly edifying or interesting.' 

“T should say not,' she answered. ‘You 
must have a very poor opinion of your sex by 
this time.' 


A TANGLED WEB. 


221 


‘ Oh, the other sex is quite as bad,’ I said 
quickly. ‘We have nearly as many men as 
women — though they do most of their beauti- 
fying by correspondence.’ 

“ ‘ You don’t say so,’ she exclaimed quickly. 
‘ I thought Englishmen were superior to 
vanity.’ 

“ ‘ I’m afraid human nature is the same the 
wide world over. Did you expect to find 
England very different to — Washington ?’ with 
a glance at her card. 

“‘Well, I did. We Americans don’t allow 
we’re beat easily. The city we honour by our 
residence is always the best in the world. 
London is surprising — but it isn’t beautiful. 
In fact I think it hideous. But there’s the 
interest — we don’t run to that. Only it’s 
a pity your architects and surveyors had so 
little taste and so little space. I always feel 
cramped here. Your streets are too narrow 
and too full — and your houses too small and 
too crowded.’ 

“ At this moment the door of the inner room 
opened, and to my regret Madame Gamier 
appeared. 

“ I explained what was required, and after 
judicious examination she professed herself 
quite capable of producing the desired effects 

19* 


222 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


in a month. A daily visit for the first week — 
then alternate days till the cure was complete. 

Mrs. Icarus Planefield agreed at once — 
gave her cheque for the sum required and 
then made an appointment for the next day. 

^ I hope we’ll be able to continue our con- 
versation,’ she said to me. ^ It was just get- 
ting interesting. I suppose you’re here most 
days ?’ 

‘‘‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but I don’t perform the 
toilet duties. I leave them to Madame Gar- 
nier.’ 

“ ‘ I see,’ she said, with one of her shrewd 
glances. ‘ But you’re a good advertisement 
of them.’ 

“She shook hands and then rustled off — 
her perfumed flounces and sparkling jewels 
scattering fragrance and lustre as she moved. 

“ It was long since I had felt so interested 
in anyone. She had almost made me forget 
my troubles for a time. 

January 7th. 

“ Three days and nothing to chronicle ex- 
cept a note from D’Arcy apologizing for his 
rudeness and begging me to reconsider the 
subject. 

“ He pointed out the advantages of a mar- 
riage with Enderleigh in glowing colours — 


A TANGLED WEB. 


223 


and professed to be quite disinterested in the 
matter. He ended with a cool request for 
fifty pounds. I took no notice of the letter. 
I don’t care for his threats now. A month 
ago had I dreamt that freedom was at hand I 
might have acted differently. I have given 
strict orders to Mary Jane that I am at home 
to no gentlemen for the future, no matter what 
they may say. 

However, I hardly fancy D’Arcy will call 
again. 

“The more I see of my American friend the 
more I like her. She is so novel — so enter- 
taining — so bright. It is quite refreshing to 
meet a woman like her after the awful speci- 
mens I have had to entertain at Jermyn Street. 

“ She told me this morning that Lord Bur- 
lington had gone abroad — to the Riviera the 
papers said. 

“ ‘ I think I shall go there too when Tm fixed 
up,’ she v/ent on laughingly. ‘Your English 
winter isn’t inviting. I haven’t seen daylight 
for a week and I never come in without a 
mask of smuts on my face. If soot’s good for 
the complexion London women ought to take 
the cake. I’ve never felt clean since I left 
Washington.’ 

“ I was silent. I was reflecting on something 


224 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


her words had suggested. A somewhat wild 
project, but it looked inviting. 

“ Meanwhile the days drag on and life is as 
monotonous as ever. 


January nth. 

“Talk of telepathy and thought transmis- 
sion, I could almost believe in it. 

“This morning Mrs. Planefield was rather 
before her time and I had a quarter of an 
hour’s chat with her. We have an extra room 
now, so that Rosalie does not interfere with me. 

“ Mrs. Planefield seemed somewhat thought- 
ful and quiet — for her. At last she told me 
with almost startling abruptness the subject 
of her consideration. 

“ ‘ I’ve been thinking,’ she said, ‘ how I’d 
like to have you for a companion. We get 
on so well — and I’ve taken a real liking to 
you. I wonder whether you’d give up this 
place to come to me. I’d treat you entirely 
as a friend and the nature of our compact 
would be a matter between ourselves. Of 
course you make a lot of money at this busi- 
ness — but I’m prepared to give you any terms 
you like to ask. You speak French and Ger- 
man so well that you’d be invaluable to me. 


A TANGLED WEB, 


225 


Besides, anyone could tell by your manners 
that yotc know what good society is. I can’t 
think why you’ve thrown yourself away on a 
life like this !’ 

“ The offer was so tempting, so entirely after 
my own heart that I could scarcely credit she 
meant it. My first impulse was to say : ‘ Yes’ 
without an instant’s hesitation. My second — 
to tell her that I should be doing her a great 
wrong by accepting the position. If she knew 
my story ... if that hateful past were to crop 
up — how disgusted she would be ! 

“ ‘ You do not seem to care about the pros- 
pect,’ she went on — as I remained silent. ‘ I 
suppose you think you’ll lose your indepen- 
dence. I promise you I’ll respect it. You see 
I’ve only my dollars to back me up. I haven’t 
the birth and breeding that you possess — I 
could see that with half an eye. I wish you’d 
think the matter over. No one — beside our 
two selves — shall know that you’re anything 
but a friend accompanying me on my travels !’ 

“ (A friend ! a nice respectable friend I 
should be for any woman !) 

‘ I should like it immensely/ I said at last. 
‘ But ’ 

* Oh, no butsP she exclaimed, eagerly ; ' Fm 
very self-willed, and I always get what I want. 

P 


226 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Perhaps you're afraid of meeting people who 
have known you here . . . that won’t matter a 
pin’s head to me. It’s you I like — you your- 
self, and when I do take a fancy to a woman 
— well, I’m staunch, I tell you. I wish you’d 
say yes, right away, and give up this shop. 
You’re looking ill and fagged and you want a 
change. You’re not under a penalty to Madame 
if you leave, are you ?’ 

‘‘ ‘No,’ I said, ‘we have only a verbal agree- 
ment, and the business is so well established 
that I can leave her to manage it very well.’ 

“ ‘ Then say it’s a bargain,’ she exclaimed 
eagerly. 

“ But still I hesitated. Those men. ... if 
we came across any of them — if she heard 
anything ! 

“ ‘ I want to be a success,’ she went on again, 
‘and I’m sure you 'could help me. You’ve 
taste, style, and tact. I’ve — well, only my dol- 
lars and my American slang. They seem good 
enough for the general public — but I want to 
please someone besides the general public. 
You might say it’s a bargain. I’m awfully 
gone on the idea. It’s haunted me all night.’ 

‘T laughed. Not very mirthfully I confess. 
I was only wondering what fresh freak of Fate 
this was, and finding some entertainment in 


A TANGLED WEB. 


227 


Speculating on a fresh experience. Should I 
risk it ? It was a golden chance — and it offered 
me escape from D’Arcy — and perhaps from 
Jack Enderleigh. 

“ ‘ I will consider the matter/ I said at last, 
‘and let you know to-morrow. Will that do ?’ 

“ ‘ It’ll have to — I suppose,’ she said discon- 
tentedly. ‘ But do make up your mind to say 
— yes. The plan appears to me so entirely 
delightful, I can’t bear to think of its falling 
through.’ 

“ I looked at her. After all she was only a 
rich American. Her reputation couldn’t suffer 
very much and I so loathed Jermyn Street and 
my present life now. 

“ Probably in six months’ time I should be 
equally tired of her life and her dollars. 
Still ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS. 

**Who hesitates is lost. I have hesitated, 
questioned, debated the subject of my Ameri- 
can friend’s proposal from all points. Finally 
I’ve resolved to accept it. 

‘H’m sick of being unhappy — of moping 
here — of constant dread of meeting D’Arcy 
— of a renewal of Jasper Oldreeve’s suit — 
of . . . well, of everything that means my 
present life, so I shall try another. If I were 
a younger woman — if I were the girl I once 
was — I should be breaking my heart and spoil- 
ing my eyes over my misery. 

“Grief is a luxury to the young. But as 
the years bring fresh demands we care less to 
indulge in it. I, at least, feel I cannot afford 
it any longer. 

“I have never considered people or their 
feelings very much — why should I begin to do 
it now ? I find they are rough enough on me 
when they get the chance. Why shouldn’t 
I brave this out and go to the Riviera — which 
of course means Monte Carlo. Even if I do 
228 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS, 229 

meet objectionable acquaintances — with memo- 
ries — I can face them on my own merits and 
the unexceptionable position I shall occupy. 

'‘I shall go to Jermyn Street to-morrow 
morning and when my charming American 
asks me if I’m going to accept her offer I shall 
say ‘Yes.’ 

January 15 th. 

“I have said ‘yes’ — and Mrs. Planefield is 
delighted. I have carte blanche to order what 
I please at Russell and Allen’s although we 
shall stay at Paris en route. 

“ Does the heaviest heartache prevent a 
woman taking an interest in dress ? I doubt it. 

“What a treat for Lutie. She shall come 
on my shopping expeditions with me. I shall 
even go to the extent of presenting her with a 
new gown for herself. She sadly needs one, 
poor thing ! and the Captain has not proposed 
— yet. 


“ In a fortnight we shall leave. 

“ My spirits have begun to improve already. 
The person who is disagreeable in the matter 
is Madame Gamier. She even talked of ‘ legal 
measures’ — and obligations of partnership. 

“ I laughed in her face. I had known better 
than to bind myself — and she hasn’t a case 

20 


230 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


to go to court with. I can excuse her wrath, 
however. Complexions — ready made — are 
not to be found every day. She’ll find it diffi- 
cult to get so good an advertisement as I am 
again. I consoled her by holding out hopes 
of my return in a few months’ time, besides 
promising to air her establishment to the 
Monte-Carloites ! We did not actually quarrel 
— but she professes herself an extremely ill- 
used person, and when I offered to throw 
Lutie into the breach she accused me of adding 
insult to injury. 

Poor Lutie ! Why didn’t Nature give her 
a complexion ? 

‘‘ How refreshing my American is after these 
tame stiff English women. 

“Even the shop-keepers and the * young 
persons’ of their establishments treat her dif- 
ferently to their ordinary customers. Is it the 
Almighty Dollar only ? I think not. 

“ Her strong point is her individuality. It 
is not only that she is surprising — but she 
surprises one so delightfully. 

“ ‘ I am a woman of emotions but no heart,’ 
she said to me last night. H’ve never felt 
anything very deeply, nor trusted anyone en- 
tirely. I don’t believe in half I see, nor credit 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS. 23 1 

half I’m told. I never had any illusions, so I’ve 
never had any disappointments. Taking all 
these facts — and the more important one that 
I could buy up half your British Aristocracy 
myself — it’s surprising I’ve yielded to wrinkles!’ 

“ ‘They are decidedly improved,’ I said. 

“ ‘ Yes. By moonlight with a white veil on, 
they might be termed imperceptible. I shall 
choose time and scene for my first interview 
very carefully. 

“ Ts it a very long time since you met ?’ I 
asked. 

“ ‘ Haven’t you done that little sum in arith- 
metic I gave you ? . . . It’s a question of 
seventeen years and the power of memory. 
But — unless I look in the glass — I could almost 
believe it was only yesterday when Mamma 
was consoling me for a broken-heart much as 
she had used to do for a broken doll I Per- 
haps she didn’t see much difference. I had 
only been something to dress and take out. 
The maternal instinct wasn’t very strong in 
her. It’s skipped me altogether. Still that 
day when they sent Jim (he was only ‘Jim’ 
to me and I’ve never thought of him as any- 
thing else) away, changed me from a child 
to a woman. It’s feelings that age us, not 
years.’ 


232 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


“ I agreed to that — well as I bore mine, con- 
sidering the wear and tear of emotions. I 
was dining with her at the Langham, where 
she had a suite of rooms, and this conver- 
sation took place after dinner as we sipped 
coffee and enjoyed the fire while snow and 
sleet held stormy reign in the world without. 

‘‘ ‘ Have you ever had an object in life?' she 
went on meditatively. ‘It’s a grand thing — 
Every one ought to have one.’ 

“ ‘ What is yours ?’ I asked. 

‘“To get all the enjoyment I can out of it,’ 
she answered. ‘And do you know that’s a 
difficult thing for a rich woman. You look 
incredulous, but it is. You never know your 
own value — only that of your money. You 
can’t be sure of a friend, or a lover. Your 
servants rob you — and then call you mean. 
You get nothing at its real value because you’re 
always charged double. And you can’t afford 
simple tastes, or early hours, or anything 
harmless and innocent, else people will suspect 
you’re mad — or immoral.’ 

“I laughed. ‘I’ve often thought,’ I said, 
‘ people make more fuss over the obligations 
of wealth than they need. Its first privilege, 
to my mind, would be that of doing exactly 
what I pleased/ 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS. 233 

‘ That’s what I used to think. But some- 
how it isn’t possible. You can do some things 
I grant — but even they have to be founded on 
previous models. We’re all imitations, because 
we darerUt cut out a track of our own. There’s 
a cult of civilization that I call the cult of 
“ Everyone Else.” We are bound to belong 
to it. To be rich only means that you wear 
diamonds like Everyone Else. You dress — 
well — very much like Everyone Else because 
your dressmaker daren’t let you be unfashion- 
able. You dine late and have a dozen courses 
when you’d infinitely prefer a fried sole or a 
mutton chop, because your servants daren’t 
let you be unlike Everyone Else. You go to 
certain houses — certain amusements — certain 
pleasure resorts because Everyone Else goes 
to them too and the law of the cult is exigent 
in such matters. In fact, you’re harnessed to 
the chariot wheels of Imitation and you can’t 
get away. There are two laws of Life. One 
for the poor which says “Ye shall suffer” — 
and one for the rich which says “Ye shall pre- 
tend to enjoy.” ’ 

“ ‘ We have drifted away,’ I said, ‘from the 
importance of the object in life. That surely 
makes a difference.’ 

“ She smiled meditatively. ‘I haven’t secured 

20* 


234 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


mine yet,’ she said. ‘ He’s in the land of pos- 
sibilities and — zero.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Does he gamble ?’ I asked interestedly. 

“ ' He broke the bank last week,’ she said. 

‘ Naturally — because he didn’t want money.’ 

“ ‘ That’s always the way,’ I said, with a 
petulant remembrance of other days when I 
had wanted it and the bank had broken me. 

‘ Luck is very perverse.’ 

“‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve never gambled. 
I wonder if I should find it so if I did.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, no doubt you would break the bank 
also. “ To him that hath shall be given” is as 
fixed a rule as any law of the Medes and 
Persians.’ 

“ She looked at me keenly. ‘ How bitterly 
you said that. You’ve tried “Zero” in your 
time.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ I said. ‘ And with the fate of “ him 
who hath not.” ’ 

“ She poured me out some green chartreuse 
and leant back amongst her cushions — her 
eyes fixed on the glowing coals. ‘I often 
wonder,’ she said abruptly, ‘what your life 
has been ?’ 

“ My face grew warm — the hand that held 
the tiny liqueur glass was less steady than I 
liked to see it. 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS. 235 

‘ Why do you say that — now ?’ I asked in 
a low voice. 

‘"‘I don't ask it. I never invite confidence. 
I prefer to receive it. But your face has a 
history in it sometimes. It held one just now.' 

“ A sudden desperate resolve took me by 
storm. 

‘‘ ‘ If I told you ' I said. 

“ She held up one tiny gemmed hand warn- 
ingly. 

“ ‘ Don't tell me anything you may be sorry 
for,' she said. ‘ Remember I’ve asked nothing. 
Fve taken you on trust at my own valuation.' 

An odd choking sensation kept me silent. 
I looked at her steadily. There are so few 
women one can trust. 

“‘You are right,' I said. T have a history. 
It is perhaps no worse than many another 
woman's — on the other hand it is no better.' 

“ ‘ But it might have been,' she said softly. 

“‘Oh yes — it might have been. We can 
all say that when we have arrived at the stage 
of looking back.' 

“ ‘ But to arrive at that stage means living. 
I wonder whether I ought to say I’m sorry for 
you.' 

“ ‘ No,’ I said abruptly. ‘ I deserve a worse 
fate than I’ve met. I might lay the blame at 


236 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Other doors, but I prefer to keep it at my own 
— now/ 

‘ I think you’re wise,’ she said quietly. ‘ It 
may be a satisfaction to blame others for our 
misfortunes, but it’s no remedy for them. Of 
course there’s a — man ?’ 

“I laughed bitterly. ‘Of course,’ I said. 
‘ Men have been my enemies all my life.’ 

‘“Was it — was he — Mr. Noel Grey?’ she 
asked. 

“I started. For the first time in our ac- 
quaintance I remembered that she only knew 
me by my false name. Two impulses were 
fighting within me : the one to confess myself 
an impostor — the other, to be wise in my own 
interests and invent a suitable romance. Was 
there a middle course ? Having said so much 
could I say no more ? I made the attempt. 

“‘No,’ I said. ‘Not Mr. Noel Grey — ^but 
another.’ 

“ ‘ It was an experience — of course,’ she said 
thoughtfully. ‘ But you have lived it down, I 
see.’ 

“ ‘ Oh yes, I have lived it down. That sort 
of thing must either conquer you — or you 
must conquer it.’ 

“She gave a little shudder and drew her 
chair closer to the fire. 


A PLUNGE INTO FRESH WATERS. 237 

“‘I was thinking/ she said, ‘what a strange 
thing friendship is. You meet a person you 
never saw before and you have to work your 
way to any knowledge of her — or him — through 
barriers of conventionality and artifice and con- 
straint. You do not seem to arrive at the real 
person for ever so long. You are studying each 
other and being mutually false even though you 
long in your hearts to say straight out — “ I like 
you — let us be true to one another.^' That,' 
she went on reflectively, ‘ is how IVe felt about 
you. It's unreasoning, perhaps — but not un- 
reasonable.' 

“ I felt the tingling of shame through all my 
veins. I wondered how any woman could have 
made me feel it. I did not look at her — but 
I felt her eyes on me, and I could not speak 
lightly and frivolously as of old. 

“We jesters pay a heavy price sometimes 
for our reputation ! 

‘“You are flattering me too much,' I said at 
last. ‘ I'm not worth real feelings. I'm too hol- 
low and too selfish to value or reward them.' 

“ She shook her head. ‘ I'm not analytical. 
I can't go into the why and wherefore of things, 
but I don't believe you're hollow. Light- 
heartedness often covers very deep feelings — 
but they're not for everybody.' 


238 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


I was silent. I wondered what she wanted 
to know. The baseness of deception appeared 
to me in a new light and I did not like it. Be- 
sides real feeling — on the part of a woman — 
was an experience I had not bargained for. 

“ Again I met her clear eyes, and again that 
little thrill of shame ran through me. How 
different she was to other women I had known 
— how different she was to — me. 

“ ‘ I’ve had a hard life — a brutal life — ’ I cried 
passionately. ‘You couldn’t understand even 
if I spoke of it — — ’ 

“ ‘ Don’t speak of it,’ she said softly. ‘ Your 
face tells me enough, and if I’m cherishing an 
illusion, well — it’s a very pleasant one, I only 
want one promise from you.’ 

Yes ?’ I said enquiringly. 

“ ‘ Be true and straight to me whatever you 
may have been to others. I feel as if I could 
trust you. I don’t want to open my eyes on 
another disappointment.’ 

“ ‘ I promise,’ I said huskily. The emotional 
side got the better of me. I felt the tears 
rising hot and swift to my eyes. 

“What had I done to this woman that I 
should gain friendship — home — luxury — trust 
and four hundred a year for the mere utterance 
of two words 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


ROMANCE VERSUS REALITY. 

Hotel de Paris, 

Monte Carlo. 

February i oth. 

A LONG gap in my Diary. Indeed I have 
more than once resolved that I would write no 
more in it. But I have broken the resolution 
with less excuse than I have had before, for I 
am neither lonely nor friendless any longer. 

“ I have broken it because I want to see 
' how the story ends,’ as the children say. In 
reading over even this short record of my life 
I cannot fancy that Fate intends to leave it 
unfinished. 

“ Life has many breaks and interludes, but 
Time has a way of rivetting broken links — 
uniting parted friends — ameliorating sorrows. 
I am going to see if Time will do me any of 
these services. 

‘‘I could transcribe many of the conversa- 
tions with Bertha Planefield as interesting to 
me as that one already written down, but — • 

239 


240 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


they don’t materially affect the records of daily 
events and may be dealt with generally. 

‘‘ Our journey here was of course a ‘ royal 
progress’ so far as comfort and luxury went. 
W e knew neither fatigue nor trouble. Ah ! mar- 
vellous magic wand of the nineteenth century 
— money ! What wonders you can perform ! 

“ One thing that always strikes me about 
my American friend is her marvellous enjoy- 
ment of everything. Scenes — places — people 
— incidents all seem as novel and as interest- 
ing to her as they would to a child — taking 
Life as a new fairy tale. 

“ She is full of enthusiasms, and I, with my 
fortunate Irish capacity for enjoyment, am 
always ready to share them or let myself be 
carried away on the current of her own vitality. 
She is never tired — never cross — never weari- 
some. Surely these are cardinal virtues in a 
woman — and such a rich woman too. 

‘'We arrived at Monte Carlo last night. 

“For the first time her spirits seemed to 
flag. An unwonted gravity took the place of 
her usual light and laughing gaiety. She 
looked at this lovely nook nestling amongst 
olive woods and orange groves — circled by the 
bounty of hill and sky and sea, with thought- 


ROMANCE VERSUS REAL/TV, 24 1 

fill eyes that seemed to enquire of it — ‘What 
have you in store for me ?’ 

“With my knowledge of men and life I 
should have said to her — ‘Don’t expect too 
much.’ 

“ Lord Burlington is staying at Nice but he 
drives over every day to the Casino. 

“We are going there this evening. I con- 
fess to feeling very nervous as to whom I may 
meet. I shall require all my panoply of as- 
surance to face ‘ old friends.’ 

“ If ever I’ve had occasion to ask myself 
that ‘Auld Lang Syne’ query as to the ad- 
visability of auld acquaintance being forgot, — 
I’ve never hesitated to say ‘Yes.’ There are 
many of mine by whom I should be only too 
thankful to be consigned to oblivion, and 
whom I would as willingly forget. It will only 
be the usual ‘ irony of Fate’ if I should knock 
up against them, and they should take it into 
their heads to remember me when I haven’t 
the least desire to call up reminiscences. 

“ Mrs. Planefield has just come into my room 
most beautifully, though very simply dressed, 
to ask if I am ready for the Rooms. I must 
close this book until I return. 


L ^ 


21 


242 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Midnight. 

‘‘ She has just left me. 

“ Poor little woman ! For once she has 
learnt the powerlessness of money. It can do 
nothing for her now. Nothing in return for 
her long years of faithfulness — nothing in re- 
turn for the love she was ready to lavish on 
the lover of her youth. 

“ He had quite forgotten her, 

“ When I think of that scene — when I think 
of the miserable white face from which I parted 
a few moments ago, my heart goes out to this 
woman as it has never gone out to another. 

“ My own troubles and worries sink into in- 
significance. Almost — I forget D’Arcy, though 
his was the first face I saw bent in flushed 
excitement over the roulette table. 

“Yes, my arch enemy is here too, and I 
am not too well pleased about it, although 
I assure myself again and again that I have 
nothing to fear from him. 

“ But D'Arcy is not engrossing my mind at 
present. I can only remember that scene in 
which poor rich unhappy little Bertha played 
so humiliating a part. 

“We walked into the Casino — she and I. 
The rooms were crowded. People stood three 
deep round the roulette tables watching the 


ROMANCE VERSOS REALITY. 243 

players. The usual ‘Notorieties’ promenaded 
the floor, flashing their diamonds and their 
conquests before the eyes of Virtue, while 
Virtue viewed them askance — and perhaps 
felt a pang of envy at sight of gowns it could 
never hope to achieve. 

“We walked slowly along. Mrs. Planefield 
full of excited curiosity at the scene. She had 
never been to Monte Carlo before, and I only 
once — so we were not blase or indifferent to 
its attractions. 

“ Suddenly her hand closed on my arm. 

“ ‘ He is coming,’ she said breathlessly. 

“ I looked up. 

“Advancing towards us was a singularly 
handsome man ; fair — tall — golden moustached 
— quite Ouidaesque in fact. He was saunter- 
ing along with two or three other men and 
beside him walked a woman. Such a woman ! 
She answered Mrs. Barrett Browning’s de- 
scription in one respect. She simply took 
‘ one’s breath away’ as one looked at her. Such 
colouring — such hair — such a figure ! I won’t 
attempt to describe her. It was the beauty of 
flesh and blood, and health and vitality. Beauty 
aided by the advantages of dress — heightened, 
but not vulgarized, by Art. Every man’s eye 
turned to her as she moved. A whisper floated 


244 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


to me — ‘ That is Celestine ! Voila ! Comme 
elle est magnifique! 

“ ‘ It is still the Englishman then ?’ 

‘ Mais oui . . . Pourquoi non f II est si 
vraiment riche . . / 

“ ' It can’t last much longer . . . don’t you 
know he broke the bank and gave it all to 
her?’ 

“These were the whispers floating round as 
the party neared us — people making way to 
let them pass as if they were royalty. 

“Well, this is an age that has chosen to 
rank Vice as an aristocratic virtue, and to give 
its old and young nobility in marriage to the 
minions of music-halls and cafes chantants. 

“ Celestine was only making hay while the 
sun shone. 

“ They were close to us. The Englishman’s 
eyes rested indifferently — unrecognizingly on 
Bertha. I could feel her quiver and see how 
white she turned. Then his eyes went back 
to the lovely glowing face beside him. He 
passed on. 

“ She did not utter a word. Her hand rested 
still on my arm — her eyes looked straight be- 
fore her. We reached the end of the room. 
She did not seem to know where she was 
going. 


ROMANCE VERSUS REAL/TV. 245 

“ ‘ Shall we turn back ?’ I asked. 

“ Then she looked at me piteously — like a 
child hurt and suffering. 

** ' Let us go home,’ she said. 

“We turned away and left the rooms, and 
walked back to the hotel through the beautiful 
grounds — under a moonlit sky. 

“ She never spoke until we were in our own 
room. Then she walked straight up to a 
mirror and stood looking at herself for a long, 
long moment. 

“At last she turned to me and with one 
small hand touched the lines on her brow. 

You see, it was no use’ . . . she said pa- 
thetically. * He has forgotten . . . and I feel 
so old — so old.’ 

“ I was silent. There was something in her 
face I had never seen in any woman’s face 
before. All its life and warmth had gone. 
The grey chill of death seemed to have frozen 
it into a strange and ghostly passivity. 

“ ‘ I did not think,’ I said gently, ‘ it would 
be such a shock.’ 

“She sank down into the nearest chair — 
and half covered her face with her hands. I 
remember noting the incongruity of her ap- 
pearance with the grief that was mastering 
her, the Paris bonnet — the rich black laces of 
21 * 


246 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


her gown — the sparkle of diamonds at her 
throat and ears. 

When she at last lifted her face her eyes 
were wet with tears. 

“‘You will think me so foolish,’ she said. 
‘ But when one has had an object in life — for 

years ’ Her voice broke, but she steadied 

it with an effort and the shadow of a smile 
just touched her pale lips. 

“ ‘ I wonder,’ she said, ‘ who she was ?’ 

“ ‘ A bad woman,’ I said indignantly. ‘ I 
heard the men speaking about her. . . . An 
actress from Paris.’ 

“ A red flush rose like a stain to the white- 
ness of her cheeks. 

“ ‘ Ought I to be sorry for him — or for my- 
self? It is all ended — there is nothing to 
look forward to now. And he doesn’t even 
know.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps,’ I said, ‘ if you told him you were 
here ’ 

“‘Tell him? .... seem to claim his re- 
membrance? No, I could never do that. He 
has forgotten .... so let it be. I wouldn’t 
bring him back to me now if I knew I had 
only to stretch out my hand. My Jim — the 
Jim I used to know was not the man to court 
public shame like that man to-night.’ 


ROMANCE VERSOS REALITY. 247 

‘ But,’ I said, ' men are all like that. They 
think nothing of it. Look at Lord Clancross 
and Sir Charles Steepleton — and the Marquis 
of Beersbury — Sir Harry Vaux and scores of 
others. They’ve all married notorious women 
— bad women — and Society receives them. If 
you knew more of men and the world this 
incident wouldn’t surprise you.’ 

She rose and began to remove her gloves 
with feverish eagerness. 

‘‘'Well, it’s over at last,’ she said. Her 
voice sounded harsh and forced. ‘I wonder 
what I shall do with my life — now ?’ 

“ ‘ There is always something to do,’ I said 
vaguel}^ ‘You may make it very pleasant if 
you choose?’ 

“ ‘ By spending money for the benefit of 
dressmakers, jewellers and upholsterers? But 
that soon palls upon one. I have no special 
taste to please — no one whose coming or going 
will make “ home” a word of meaning.’ 

“ ‘ I wish you would not look upon this as 
hopeless,’ I answered. ‘ It might be explained. 
You know, he has never married.’ 

“ Again that bright flush stained her cheek 
and rose almost to her brow. 

“ ‘ This^ she said, below her breath, ‘ is so 
much worse. The shame and taint of his past 


248 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


years would be on his lips — in his eyes — in his 
heart. I could never forget it.' 

“ ‘ Do you think men are saints?' I exclaimed. 

* Did you expect he would have lived as you 
have lived — on hope and memory. My God ! 
how little you know of life. You, who told 
me you had no illusions.' 

“ ' No,' she said. ‘ But I had faith.' 

‘‘ * It is wasted,' I said, ‘ on a man. They 
don't expect and they don't deserve it.' 

“ But my heart smote me as I thought of 
Jack's honest eyes. Would any ‘ Celestine' 
console him for me, I wonder ? 

She looked at me sadly and wonderingly. 

“‘How bitterly you said that. ... You 
have suffered too ?' 

“ ‘ Does any woman escape ?' I answered. 
I knew what wrongs were. She — had only 
looked at their possibility. 

“ She sighed heavily. ‘ I will go to my room,' 
she said in a sudden tired voice. ‘ You — you 
won't mind — to-night ?' 

Mind — I? .... the salaried companion. 
Surely the age of miracles is not yet past !) 

“ ‘ Can I do anything for you ?' I asked en- 
treatingly. ‘ Or would you rather be alone ?' 

“ ‘Yes ... . you see I must get used to it, 
so I had better begin at once. I almost think 


ROMANCE VERSUS REALITY. 249 

the loneliness of a rich woman is harder to 
bear than that of a poor one. If I had to 
scrub floors and wash clothes I should be too 
tired to think/ 

“ She left me and I sat on alone — thrown 
back on my past — on my old loneliness — on 
my stormy troubled life by this episode in hers. 

‘‘ She was the only woman whom I had not 
comforted by the suggestion of laudanum or — 
champagne — but then she was the only woman 
I had yet met who could make me feel the 
shame of such a suggestion. 

“The heart may break — yet brokenly live 
on ! Will hers break ! Poor trustful lonely 
little Bertha with her ‘ object’ in life — and that 
object only a man who could flaunt a Parisian 
cocotte through the gambling saloons of Monte 
Carlo after breaking the bank for her sake !” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A FATE IN THE BALANCE. 


Feb. iith. 

** Having given so much space to my friend’s 
affairs I feel I am entitled to devote a little to 
my own. 

I am not surprised to find D’Arcy here. 
It was always a happy hunting ground of his. 
But I am uneasy as to what his intentions re- 
garding myself may be. He did not see me 
in the gambling room. He was too much 
occupied with his ‘ system,’ for he is one of 
those imbeciles who believe luck can be con- 
trolled — or made subservient to certain rules. 
I try to assure myself he can do me no harm, 
that Mrs. Planefield is unlikely to make his 
acquaintance, living as we do so much to our- 
selves — but yet, I don’t feel comfortable about 
the matter. Our names will be in the visitors’ 
list published by all the hotels, and Mrs. 
Planefield’s dollars will doubtless be a temp- 
tation to him to try and make her acquaint- 
ance. Poor Bertha ! Between Scylla and 

250 


A FATE IN THE BALANCE. 251 

Charybdis indeed, if that shark ever got hold 
of her as he has a way of doing with women. 

‘‘ Heaven knows how he does it, but no one 
can deny his good looks and his power of fas- 
cination. I know the value of both to my cost. 

“We are to stay at Monte Carlo a few days 
longer. Bertha wishes to see the beauties of 
the place now she is here, and has planned 
excursions to Roquebrun, Eza, San Remo, and 
other places less known to tourists or the 
haunters of the Casino. As a rule people 
only come to the Riviera to gamble and dress, 
and amuse themselves in the same laborious 
fashion that they have done in London and 
Paris and St. Petersburg. The scenery and 
surroundings mean no more to them than the 
mzse en scene of a theatre means to the actors 
in the play. But Bertha Planefield is differ- 
ent. Gambling and society — such society as 
the Riviera affords — roueSy divorceeSy titled 
rakes, fast women, celebrities in les deux 
mondes rushing and competing in the race for 
notoriety — had no attractions for her. 

“‘You might know anyone you pleased,' I 
said to her to-day, as we drove along the 
Corniche Road in the direction of Nice. 

‘ There is to be a ball at the Grand Hotel next 


252 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


week. Wouldn’t you care to go? Some 
royalties will be on view.’ 

“ She shook her head. 

“ ‘ No, I came here with a distinct impression 
of English society, of stateliness, exclusive- 
ness, order, grace. I find rush, turmoil, ex- 
citement, vulgarity. On the whole I prefer 
Washington.’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The “ old order” has cer- 
tainly departed. Women nowadays will do 
anything sooner than be considered “ slow.” 
There are heaps of them who ought to be out 
of Society altogether, if they had their deserts. 
Nevertheless the fact of being able to keep in 
it, despite any faux pas, entitles them to genu- 
ine respect. They must be so very clever, or 
so very rich.’ 

“She looked at the blue sea thoughtfully. 
It seemed to suggest something to her, for 
suddenly she turned to me. 

“ ‘ Come back with me to America,’ she 
said abruptly. 

“ I looked at her in silence. The idea was 
altogether so startling that I could not grasp 
at once all it might mean. A new world — a 
new life — the effacement of that hateful past. 
I felt my heart throb and the blood rush to my 
face. 


A FATE IN THE BALANCE. 2$ 3 

“ ^ Do you really mean it ?’ I said. 

“ ‘ I do. There is nothing to keep me here. 
You know why I came to England, and the 
result. I don’t care to remain here now. In 
Washington I have friends — interests — asso- 
ciations. It would be interesting at least. You 
would make a sensation there and you would 
be of such use to me. Promise to think of 
the idea.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Certainly, I promise,’ I said slowly, my 
eyes fixed on an advancing carriage. 

“ Like a flash it came to me who were its 
occupants, even before a mocking smile, a hat 
raised in greeting, called the hot indignant 
colour to my face. D’Arcy, Lord Burlington, 
and another man were in it. They all looked 
at us, then a cloud of dust alone remained as 
a memento of their passage. 

“ ' He knew you to-day,’ I said to Bertha. 

‘“Yes,’ she said, quietly. T think he did.’ 

“ ‘ He will call, I expect. He is sure to 
recognize your name.’ 

“ She smiled somewhat absently. ‘ Perhaps 
he will — but it is too late now.’ 

‘“You mean that even if you had a chance 
of happiness ’ 

“ ‘ It would not be — that,’ she interrupted. 
‘He is altogether different from what I im- 
22 


254 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


agined. Two unhappy marriages are more 
than I can look forward to with resignation. 
I’ve not said anything to you since that night 
— what a long way back it seems — but I don’t 
mind telling you now. It was final. It seemed 
the end of a feeling that had suddenly found 
itself without foundation. One portion of my 
life snapped off short. Nothing could join it 
again. I feel sore and hurt still, but I know 
the wound will heal. He cannot help being 
what he is, but I can help imagining him what 
he is not. I have thought of it a great 
deal. ... I am old — my hair is grey. Any 
attraction I might have had would only be the 
attraction of money. That would not content 
me. It is terrible for a woman to feel her 
heart is young — passionate — exacting — and 
look in her glass at a wrinkled face and faded 
hair. Time is so cruel to us.’ 

“ ‘ And so are men !’ I said fiercely, for that 
smile and look of D’Arcy’s had roused a very 
devil within me. 

“‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘and so are — men. 
After that first night here I seemed to have 
left my old self — the self of thirty years’ knowl- 
edge — behind me. I cannot even fancy know- 
ing it again.’ 

“ ‘ And you think it was the end ?’ 


A FATE IN THE BALANCE. 255 

“ * I am sure it was. Will you come to 
Washington ?’ 

“ I laid my hand on her arm. 

“ ‘ I know more of life and men than you 
do. He will come to see you — you will see 
him. Ask me ^/len if I will come to Wash- 
ington.' 

“ For I knew D' Arcy would not scruple to 
tell him of me, and I knew he would tell 
Bertha — and then . . . 

“We returned from our drive an hour ago. 
Their cards were awaiting us. 

The Earl of Burlington, 

Hotel H Angleterre. Nice, 

Captain Justin H Arcy, 
late 2nd Lancashire Lt. Infantry. 

“ ‘Was I not right?’ I said to Bertha. 

“ She stood there pale and thoughtful, hold- 
ing the cards. 

“ ‘ I think,’ she said slowly, ‘ we will arrange 
to leave to-morrow instead of next week.’ 

“ I looked at her quickly, relieved and glad, 
but uncertain as to whether she meant it. 

“ ‘ Are you in earnest ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Perfectly. Will you tell the courier and 
I will arrange with Felicie.’ 


256 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


“ I rang the bell. The attendant answered 
it and I gave him orders to send up the courier. 
He bowed and then with a glance at the cards 
explained that the gentlemen had called but 
half an hour ago, that they were desole at 
finding mesdames not at home, that one of 
them had left word he would return at six 
o’clock and hoped to find them in by that 
hour. 

“ One of them. I looked at Bertha — she 
looked at me. 

‘ Lord Burlington,' I exclaimed. 

^ Captain D’Arcy,' she echoed. 

“ My eyes turned to the clock. It wanted 
five minutes to six. 

“ ‘The courier can wait,’ I said to the polite 
attendant, ‘ until the gentleman has left.’ 

“ Bertha said nothing. 

“We did not remove our bonnets but seated 
ourselves by the window which commanded a 
view of the bay and the gardens of the Casino. 
My nerves were strung to a pitch of intense 
nervous tension. I felt the coming interview 
was to be momentous in some way. Life had 
been too smooth and easy of late. Something 
was sure to happen. 

“ The slow ticking of the clock was the only 


A FATE IN THE BALANCE, 257 

sound in the room. We had no words, no 
smiles for each other. We simply waited. 

“ Her fate and mine hung in the balance. 
It was no time for idle talk. 

“ The door was quietly opened. In the half 
dusk I saw a tall figure advancing. My breath 
came in a quick gasp. It was not D’Arcy. 

I saw her rise, calm and tranquil, as if to 
meet an ordinary acquaintance. They shook 
hands, and the waiter brought in a lamp and 
set it on a small table near the window. Then 
she turned to me. 

‘ Allow me to introduce' she began. 

I hope on this side of Heaven it will never 
be my fate to read in a man’s eyes again the 
contemptuous insolence I saw in Lord Bur- 
lington’s. What a blow is to a man, that look 
was to me. The blood flushed to my brow. 
I rose unsteadily. I heard his clear well-bred 
tones. 

^ Excuse me, but I wish to speak to this 
lady alone — Mrs. Garbett.’ 

‘‘Then I found myself outside the door. 
My castle of cards had once more toppled to 
the ground. 

“I sat in my room alone, maddened with 
rage and surprise. D’Arcy had betrayed me, 


258 7 A WOMAN IN IT. 

D’Arcy had told this man my history. The 
arch-fiend and enemy of my life had risen up 
once more to destroy another chance ! A hate, 
bitter as murder, was in me. The mean cur 
who had ruined me once was only eager to do 
so again. 

“The veins in my temples swelled to burst- 
ing, the room seemed to swim before me. I 
glanced at the mirror, half expecting to see 
some hideous change in my face, but save for 
the hot flush on either cheek it looked much 
as ever. How I loathed it — how I loathed 
myself. 

“ Let the plain woman thank God for her 
plainness. She never need learn the brutality 
of man, never need dread the power of temp- 
tation.'* 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE DIARY ENDS. 

“ I HAD ceased to take note of time. I gave 
myself up to frigid callousness and braced 
myself to receive dismissal, reproach, even 
insult. Why should Bertha Planefield be dif- 
ferent to other women — women who from the 
vantage point of unassailed virtue regard the 
weaker and more assailable of their sex with 
lofty contempt. 

‘ She has only herself to blame,’ I told my- 
self, trying to picture her under the joint reve- 
lations of false love and false friendship. ‘ She 
insisted on my living with her . . . After all, 
there’s no harm done. The people whose ac- 
quaintance she has made only care for her 
money. It wouldn’t matter to them what she 
did or whom she took up, as long as those 
millions of dollars were safe, and her gowns 
came from Worth. 

She came to me at last. As I heard the 
handle of the door turn I rose and stood there 

259 


26 o 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


facing her. She paused for a moment on the 
threshold — our eyes met. Then she crossed 
the room a little hurriedly and came towards 
me. She was trembling, and there were tears 
in her eyes. 

‘‘ ‘ Is it true ?' she asked simply. 

‘“Yes,^ I said. I did not ask her what. 
The time for subterfuge and pretence was 
over. I think as I recognized that I also 
recognized how heartily sick I had become 
of them. It seemed such a relief to speak the 
simple truth at last. 

‘‘ She said nothing for a moment, only went 
over to the couch and sat down. Then she 
motioned to me to take a chair also. 

“‘True?’ she said. T can’t believe it — 
that you are a divorced woman . . that you 
were compromised with Justin D’Arcy — Oh, 
it is too hateful even to speak of!’ 

“ ‘ There is worse behind,’ I said, ‘ if you 
would care to hear it. I offered to tell you 
my history once, but you would not listen. 
Will you listen now? It is almost as moral 
and interesting as a page of Zola.’ 

“She suddenly turned and buried her head 
in the sofa cushions and began to sob. 

“‘Oh!’ she cried, ‘is there no one who is 
true— no one who is good — clean-minded — 


THE DIARY ENDS, 


261 


honest-hearted? Oh, what a world — what a 
world !’ 

“ Her tears touched me. As a rule women 
don’t cry for women, nor expect them to be 
‘ true and good.’ Bertha Planefield was almost 
childish still in her beliefs and her expectations. 

“ I looked at her half in wonder, half in pity. 
Was she very foolish ? Where had I read 
about the ‘ cuteness’ of Americans — their 
surface brilliance and instability of character? 

Suddenly her sobs ceased, she sat up and 
dried her eyes. 

“‘You didn’t think I was so foolish as to 
feel anything like this ?’ she asked. ‘ I didn’t 
think it either. I can’t understand myself. I 
told you once I had never had any illusions 
about people, so I ought to have been pre- 
pared for anything they might do, or had done.’ 

“‘Yes,’ I said bitterly, ‘you are rather low 
down in your class if you have only learnt 
that lesson to-day.’ 

“‘Theoretically I knew it, practically I did 
not. I told you once I had heaps of acquaint- 
ances but few friends.* 

“ She looked at me again. I could read her 
thoughts in her clear eyes. She was marvel- 
ling that ‘ vice was not written on my candid 
brow,’ that sensuality and hypocrisy had not 


262 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


lent their odious lines and curves to my lips, 
that my glance could be frank and calm, my 
skin unwrinkled, my laugh gay. 

* You weep for those who weep,’ she said. 

‘ Oh fools ! I bid you pass them by. 

Go weep for those whose hearts have bled, 

What time their eyes were dry.’ 

* I think,* she said softly at last, ‘ I should 
like to hear your story from the beginning. I 
refused once ; that refusal left you at the mercy 
of a third person. Oh! there is something 
hateful in a man who takes away a woman’s 
character . . as . . as I have heard yours 
taken away.* 

‘‘I knew then the worst had befallen me. 
Simple truth suggested itself as a relief. I 
threw my memory back thoughtfully. I re- 
membered my diary ... It would serve me 
at last. 

“‘I will tell you everything,* I said, ‘up to 
my coming here. You cannot think worse of 
me than I think of myself.* 

“I commenced and rapidly went through 
the events and incidents that antedate my 
present journal. I left off where it begins. 

“‘Now,* I said, ‘you shall read the rest for 
yourself. At least you must acknowledge I 
have been honest in my confessions.* 


THE DIARY ENDS. 263 

“ I left the room and brought the diary and 
placed it in her hands. 

‘‘‘If you can find it in your heart to say 
good-bye to me kindly after reading this, say 
it to-morrow morning,* I said. ‘ But for to- 
night, let things rest as they are.* 

“She lifted her head as though to speak, 
but I hurried away. I was stupid enough to 
feel weak, and almost weak enough to cry. 
But I knew the time for tears was not yet, and 
I restrained the impulse. 

“ How trite and commonplace a saying it is 
that we all have our chances ! 

“The moralist says it to the sinner — the 
Pharisee to the publican. But as I sit here 
this dreary evening I say it myself and I know 
it for truth. I have had my chance. The 
chance of a good man*s love. The chance 
of a good woman*s friendship. I have missed 
both. 

“ How ridiculous it seems that I should have 
expected anything to come of this last venture 
of mine but failure. 

“ My life has always been a whirligig, a thing 
of cross purposes — a warped and crooked stick 
on which it was unsafe to lean. There will 
never be a time of smooth waters, a landing in 


264 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


some peaceful haven, a rest — (God! how I 
long for it now I) after the battle. 

'‘The brute who has been my ruin has spoilt 
my last chance. My story — commonplace 
enough — yet bad enough, has been given out 
to the gossipers of this scandalous place. 

“ Bertha Planefield knows me for what I am, 
and oddly enough, I feel more humiliated by 
her knowledge of the facts, than by the sneers 
or veiled insolence of the men who have car- 
ried them to her ears. She is a different 
specimen of womankind to Lutie, or Mrs. 
Oldreeve, or any of the numerous women with 
whom I have come in contact. So different, 
that the ridiculous feeling has crossed my 
mind lately that she might make me a better 
woman. 

“ I laugh now as I think of it, but the tears 
are hot in my eyes and I am ashamed of the 
laugh ere it has died in the silence. 

“ What has come to me to-night? 

“ I hardly know myself. It seems as if an 
end had come to the life I have lived and the 
self I have known. 

“I no longer feel the energy to plot, the 
zest of successful scheming. 

“ It seems too late. A noble lover, a true 
trusted friend, these are not gifts that Fate 


THE DIARY ENDS. 265 

throws in one’s lap every day, and I have lost 
both. 

What is there left worth living for ? . . . 

“I find myself looking at these lines idly 
traced on scraps of paper, for Bertha has my 
Diary. 

I keep on writing, writing, writing from 
sheer inability to sit here idle. I have never 
been in so strange and so despondent a mood. 
All the recklessness and dare-devilry have died 
out of my heart like a fire exhausting its own 
fuel. I am only conscious of being very tired, 
and very hopeless. 

“ I don’t know why I thought of it. 

“ Was it a last whisper of my evil genius, 
or the suggestion of a despair that looks its 
own desperation in the face ? I cannot tell. I 
only know it came as it has come before, the 
tempting to end all this ! 

“ What is life without love, without friend- 
ship, without hope ? 

“ What is the use of my taking up the old 
struggling, humiliating career? To live in 
hourly dread of D’Arcy’s chantange and evil 
tongue, of Jasper Oldreeve’s persecution, of 
Jack Enderleigh’s undisguised contempt? 

‘'There is my old friend in my dressing- 

M 23 


266 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


case. A few drops more than the usual dose 
and then — sleep. Sleep long, unending, 
eternal. 

“I have never thought myself a brave 
woman, yet I face this idea without a pang of 
fear. The evil about me is so heavy and so 
close that I see but one way of escape. No- 
one will care, no one will miss me, except per- 
haps Lutie. Poor old Lutie ! What things 
we have done, what risks we have run. She 
will think this an accident. She will never 
dream that I — took my own life, 

“ How odd it looks ! How vivid the words 
seem. To-morrow I shall not be here to read 
them. 

“ I will write Finis to this, and seal it up 
and leave it for Bertha. She must know my 
story to its end. 

“ Now for my drops.*' 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


TWO WOMEN IN IT. 

Midnight was chiming when Bertha Plane- 
field raised her head from the last of the 
closely covered pages which contained so much 
of the history of Mrs. Noel Grey. 

Her whole soul was in a tumult. 

So cynical and candid and condemnatory 
a page of woman’s life had never yet been 
offered for her perusal. Yet there was a 
gleam of something noble and self-sacrificing 
underlying those reckless confessions — a re- 
deeming quality, as it were — that refused to 
be extinguished. They say the worst women 
have their innocent moments. It is hard to 
believe in irreclaimable badness. Missionaries 
and fanatical chapel-goers have found it possi- 
ble ; but the general run of mankind like to 
leaven that opinion with a little unsectarian 
charity. 

Heaven pity sinners if the justice of Eternity 
is to be meeted out with anything like the 
narrowness of the justice of earth! 


267 


268 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


Bertha Planefield was a large-hearted and 
extremely resolute person. When she cared 
for anyone she cared very deeply, and though 
her wealth and popularity had made her dis- 
trustful of “ professions’' of friendship, she 
had never ceased to long for a sympathetic 
companion. 

The inner loneliness of a very rich woman 
is a touching, though somewhat unrealizable 
fact. Bertha Planefield had experienced it 
fully. The charm of Mrs. Noel Grey was her 
unflattering frankness, and her genial and 
unfailing good nature. Added to these the 
buoyancy and companionableness of the Irish 
temperament made her doubly attractive. 
Bertha Planefield had of late indulged in the 
vision of a Woman’s sphere of Usefulness. 
A Salon ih fact, comprising social, artistic and 
helpful elements, enriched by taste, beautified 
by art, and popularized by the wit, skill, and 
social knowledge of her Irish friend. Men 
were but a background to this scheme. The 

Two Women” who organized it would be its 
motive power, and time, tact and all useful 
help would be lavished upon it. 

The ambition may not have been very noble 
or self-sacrificing, but it would serve a purpose 
and might achieve a possible good. Unaided 


^ TIVO WOMEN IN IT, 269 

she felt she could not work it out. She lacked 
the courage and daring requisite for success. 
A success that did not depend on wealth 
though deriving all possible aid and eclat from 
such an adjunct. 

Was this scheme to be a failure because — 
She hesitated and her face flushed. She was 
trying to reconcile the Woman of the Diary 
with the friend she had been reckoning on. 
How utterly at variance they seemed. 

Affection began to make excuse, and her 
heart had never been obdurate. 

She had cut short Lord Burlington’s story 
with scathing contempt. She had asked him, 
in fact, whether the company in which she had 
seen him that fateful evening left him free to 
judge so severely of any other offender. 

To say that a peer of the realm was out- 
raged by such plain speaking on the part of 
an American citizen, is to say very little. 

The casting of stones at the right sinner is 
a peculiarly British art. Mrs. Icarus B. Plane- 
field had not yet been initiated into its mys- 
teries. Lord Burlington insinuated that cer- 
tain topics were not discussable in ladies’ society 
and speedily took his leave. The echo of his 
steps was followed by the echo of a sigh. 

It sounded strangely like one of relief, 
i 23* 


2/0 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


“ How could I ever have cared for him !” 
said the reality of thirty-five to the romance 
of seventeen. 

Alas ! Reality and Romance have asked 
each other that question too often in this bitter 
world. 

But all this had been very trying to the 
nerves, temper and feeling of a sensitive 
woman. It was little wonder that Bertha 
Planefield sat there weighing these matters in 
her mind and pondering them in her heart. 
That heart was clamouring for a hearing, 
even after the journal had been closed and 
its contents weighed in the balance of feminine 
judgment. 

“ I couldn't send her back to this life. . . I 
couldn’t. It would be mean, cruel, hateful of 
me,” she exclaimed. “After all, she hasn’t 
been so very bad . . . and God knows she 
has suffered enough for what she has done.” 

She seized the book and started to her feet. 

“ ni go and tell her !” she exclaimed impul- 
sively. 

Their bedrooms were on the same floor, 
divided only by a dressing-room. Mrs. Plane- 
field turned the handle softly, then stood there 
on the threshold for one brief moment, frozen 
by the horror of a sudden fear. 


TIVO WOMEN IN IT, 2/ 1 

The woman who was facing her — was that 
the woman she had never seen without a smile 
on her lips, the light and brilliance of youth 
in eye and cheek ? 

This haggard, guilty, ashen-faced creature 
holding in one hand a tiny phial, in the other 
a glass half full of a thick, dark liquid. 

Shaking off the paralysis of inaction with 
one supreme effort, Bertha Planefield crossed 
the room and took the glass from those trem- 
bling fingers. 

‘‘Not yet,’' she said very tenderly. “Not 
yet, while you have one woman friend in the 
world who cares for you, no matter what you 
are !” 

There was a second’s breathless silence 
broken only by one stormy sob as the shud- 
dering figure sank upon the floor. 

“Yes, cry . . . it will do you good ... it 
is all the relief we have. But, after tomight, 
let us only remember that we are two women 
with whom life has dealt hardly, but who are 
going to face that life afresh and defy the 
Past.” 

There was no answer. A blissful uncon- 
sciousness had followed that sound of incred- 
ulous relief 

Bertha knelt by the motionless figure, loosen- 


272 A WOMAN IN IT, 

ing the wrapper at her throat. She was as 
pale as the senseless face before her, but a 
passionate thrill of exultation ran through her 
veins. 

“ My God !’' she cried in her heart. “ If I 
had been one moment later !’' 

It is not given to many women to defy the 
Past” successfully. 

Yet Bertha Planefield had decreed it should 
be done : and set about doing it after a plan 
of her own. Perhaps a woman whom evil has 
not touched realizes its coarseness and extent 
less keenly than one to whom it has worn no 
disguise. Perhaps her nature was more com- 
passionate than critical. In any case she felt 
capable of making an experiment and carrying 
it to a successful issue. 

The commencement of the experiment ne- 
cessitated an immediate retreat from present 
quarters. However, when they reached Paris, 
Mrs. Noel Grey fell seriously ill. 

It was scarcely possible that a woman could 
have lived through the wear and tear of pas- 
sion and emotion that had been her lot, and 
not suffer for it. 

Mental and physical collapse alarmed her 
friend for life as much as for reason. It meant 


TWO WOMEN IN IT. 


273 


weeks of anxious suspense, of tender watch- 
fulness, of incessant care. But those weeks 
gave Bertha Planefield ample leisure to review 
her plans. Life had suddenly become a thing 
of serious interests. 

Up to that awful moment when she had 
frustrated the rashness of despair, and bid an 
erring sister live for the sake of their common 
sisterhood, she had never found any very grave 
responsibility. Now it seemed to her that she 
was in some manner responsible for this future, 
that but for her might have become an irrev- 
ocable Past. 

Women are so often foes to women that it 
is little wonder the ranks of the fallen and the 
desperate are perpetually crowded by new re- 
cruits. It is not only the helping hand that is 
needed, but the hand that gives its help at the 
right moment and in the right way. A good 
woman can make other women good more by 
influence and association than by preaching. 
But the preaching is easier, and therefore a 
method more generally adopted. 

Bertha Planefield was not a preacher. She 
was just a woman, faulty, loving, with a bias 
towards compassionate instead of just dealing. 
Her sex’s vanity and her sex’s weakness were 
not absent, otherwise she had been less purely 


2/4 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


feminine. She was more emotional than criti- 
cal, and the perpetual reasoning and wondering 
and arguing that make modern women and 
modern men at once introspective and pessi- 
mistical were not faults of her nature. 

Life was less complex and therefore better 
worth living to her than to the analysts and 
cynics. Half of it had been spent in nourish- 
ing a romance to which Man had dealt the 
death-blow. The other half she resolved 
should be spent in sober Reality, to which 
Woman should act as the reviving power. 

The wave of reaction had carried her to the 
borders of an Ideal Friendship. Would it be 
more satisfactory than an Ideal Love ? 

The more she thought of it the more It ap- 
pealed to her. To aid this frail sister, to re- 
instate her in the place from which she had 
fallen, to be to her at once encouragement and 
example, such was the inspiration of her heart. 

That it would be difficult she knew, that it 
was very noble and very quixotic she never 
thought. 

“Women ought to help each other. They 
must help each other heart and soul or else 
men will never cease to sneer at them,” she 
told herself. 


TIVO WOMEN IN IT, 2^5 

She felt she was ready to begin, and the 
feeling lifted her above all the common little- 
nesses of life, and breathed new and noble 
influences into her soul. 

Brick by brick she built up the edifice of 
hope, never despairing, never weary even in 
days when a wasted hand clung to hers, and 
babbling lips prated the incessant foolish chat- 
ter of delirium. The very helplessness of 
this wicked life appealed to her as neither 
fearlessness nor independence could have done. 
She had neither lover, nor husband, nor child, 
and the future looked cheerless as a prospect. 
Her heart clung impulsively to this one friend. 

“ She is unhappy, she needs me,” she told 
herself, and then she would leave the sick-room 
and read again those self-betraying pages of 
the Diary. “ She need not have told me. . . 
If she had denied everything I would have be- 
lieved her ...” she thought, with that new- 
born tenderness for a sinner that might almost 
make a saint, were it ever known to anyone, 
save just a woman’s own heart and to Him 
who created that heart. 

Love is always exacting, but Friendship 
tests our less selfish capabilities though It has 
often to wait for its reign till love is dethroned 
or dead. 


276 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


In Bertha’s case it had suddenly usurped 
the stronghold of a long-cherished dream. 
She could say of the man, “ He does not need 
me” — but to the woman her sore heart turned 
with a widely different sense of responsi- 
bility. 

Days passed into weeks ; then wearily the 
hours of languor and convalescence lent them- 
selves to the growing needs of returning 
strength and laid fresh tax upon the patient 
watcher. She dared not yet speak of the 
future. Neither hope nor desire looked 
out from those weary sunken eyes, and a 
strange reticence sealed the once reckless 
speech. 

What had been faced and reckoned with in 
those dark days of pain was not known to 
any living soul, but they had left indelible 
marks on the character of the woman who 
held their secrets. 

The adventuress to whom life had only 
meant escapades, excitement, shifts and strug- 
gles looked back on that span of reckless years 
with a horror of herself that was too painful 
for words. In the tortures of memory she 
lived her past anew and in so living almost 
atoned for it. 

That one moment when her foot touched 


TIVO WOMEN IN IT. 


277 


the Borderland of self-wrought crime was an 
indelible moment. As strength returned and 
the hundred and one of its daily needs and 
trivialities Imposed themselves again, she 
shrank even from Bertha’s tender eyes and 
gentle ministry. 

It seemed to her that she had no further 
place among good women, and yet none knew 
better than herself how utterly she despised 
the life and temptations and surroundings that 
were the reverse of the picture. 

Her nature seemed shaken to its very foun- 
dations by the generosity lavished and the 
trust so tenderly bestowed upon one so un- 
worthy. It was as if after long sliding and 
slipping among shifting quicksands her foot 
at last touched firm ground. She shuddered 
sometimes when she thought how nearly she 
had slipped into the quicksands irrevocably. 
How fateful one moment of time had been in 
comparison with hours and days of utter reck- 
lessness. 

But I ought not to live with her,” she re- 
flected, as Bertha’s wishes and Bertha’s plans 
were more carefully detailed. “ My life is not 
fit to join with hers.” 

Restraint made her nervous and unnatural. 
Glib words no longer rattled off her tongue. 

24 


278 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Conversation was an effort and Bertha soon 
detected it. 

The time was ripe, she felt, for explanation. 
She set herself to the task with a simplicity 
and directness that were prepared to combat 
scruples and defy opposition. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


“ YES !” 


The invalid lay on the couch in her dressing- 
room. The lamps were lit — and the muffled 
sounds of the streets broke the stillness within. 
The world of Paris was on its way to the 
thousand and one distractions that pleasure 
has invented. 

Mrs. Noel Grey looked at her thin hands 
and wasted figure, and wondered, half patheti- 
cally, whether pleasure and distraction would 
ever again have any charms for her. 

It is these reactionary moods that fill con- 
vents and sisterhoods and nursing Homes. 

When the door softly opened and she saw 
Bertha Planefield, she rose from her recum- 
bent position. It occurred to her then that 
the whole day had passed without a visit from 
her friend. 

“ Don't get up," Bertha said eagerly. ‘‘ You 
are not strong yet. I know you are better. 
The nurse says you may go for a drive to- 
morrow. So Pm come to have a chat with 
you. Shall I tire you if I talk ?" 


279 


28 o 


A WOMAN IN IT, 


Not at all/' 

But a nervous flush rose to Mrs. Noel Grey's 
cheek. She felt a crisis was approaching. 

Bertha Planefield seated herself on a low 
chair beside the couch. 

“ I want, first of all,” she said, “ to give you 
back this.” 

Their eyes rested on the leather-covered 
book which held such condemnatory records 
— then met and mutely asked results. 

“Then,” continued Bertha as she laid the 
volume of MSS. on the couch beside her, “ I 
mean to have one good talk over things with 
you. After that we will not speak of ... of 
what this book tells — ever again.” 

Mrs. Noel Grey said nothing. Only one thin 
restless hand thrust the book away under the 
loose silk coverlet as if its sight were hateful. 

Bertha noted the gesture and the sudden 
flush that stained the white cheek. 

“I am so afraid,” she said gently, “that I 
shall not express myself as I want to. When 
one feels deeply it is not easy to speak, and I 
do feel very deeply for you.” 

“You have been — far too good to me,” 
came the broken answer. “ I, too, can’t find 
words '’ 

“ Oh, hush — hush . . . whatever we do don’t 


let us get tragic/* exclaimed Bertha almost 
sharply. “ Tm going to talk common sense 
and nothing else. How soon do you think 
you’ll be able to travel to Washington ?” 

“You — I — I mean it is no longer a question 
of my ability. Circumstances are altered now. 
I feel I ought not — I cannot accept your offer.” 

“ Circumstances,” answered Bertha, “ are 
exactly the same. We are the same women. 
We stand still in the same position. I offered 
you my friendship, I cannot take it back and — 
friendship is but a poor thing if it can’t stand 
some test.” 

“The test of — this?” Mrs. Noel Grey laid 
her hand on the concealed book. “ It is one 
from which any friendship might shrink.” 

“Not mine,” said Bertha simply. “The 
woman who could love and sacrifice herself 
for Jack Enderleigh sooner than wreck his life, 
is not a woman whom I could ever mistrust. 
But she is a woman who needs a friend in her 
loneliness and I mean to be that friend.” 

“ Don’t think I need your assurance — and 
don’t think I can’t value such friendship . . . 
but it would be a wrong to you to associate 
your life with mine. At any moment my past 
may crop up again. I have many enemies, and 
they won’t spare me. Remember D’Arcy ” 


282 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


‘‘ He is a brute and a villain. It would be 
the worse for him if he ever crossed my path. 
Nina dearest, do not attempt to alter my pur- 
pose. I can be very resolute, as you know. 
I am the mistress of my own fortunes — a child- 
less, husbandless woman. I need a friend — T 
ask you to be that friend. Together we will 
make something of life — together we will utilize 
this burden of wealth that has sown so much 
misery and distrust around me. Come, Nina 
— if I have courage, surely you have the same. 
What can the world do to me that will harm 
me ? What has it done for you that you should 
regard its opinions 

I don’t, I never have ; but it is for you, 
Bertha, I hesitate — for you who are a good, 
pure woman — so different from what I have 
been.” 

“But not so different from what you may 
be, Nina. The Future is still yours.” 

“It is your gift,” she answered, with a 
strangled sob. “ But for you I should not be 
here now. Sometimes I think ” 

“ I know exactly what you think. It is just 
what any morbid, ill-used, unfortunate woman 
would think. I am not going to listen to it. 
I simply want to announce a decision. In a 
new world you shall lead a new life — of use — 


YESr 


283 


of good — of beauty. Instead of the extrava- 
gancies and follies of wealth we will pursue its 
uses. We will serve our fellow creatures as 
well as ourselves. A vast sphere lies before 
us, Nina — the woman's sphere of helpfulness. 
Let us join hands in the enterprise. Leave 
the old life, the false lovers, the cruel spies 
and intrigues of this past year behind you. 
The secret of melodrama clings to these pages. 
Burn them and forget them ! Leave Jasper 
Oldreeve to his fate — I foresee it near at hand. 
Self-murder, or the victim of that fiend who 
knows his secret. As for D' Arcy he has done 
his worst. Your friend of the boarding-house 
I have been corresponding with. Would you 
like to know the result?” 

“Yes, indeed . . . PoorLutie — she has had 
a hard life.” 

“She will join us when we are settled in 
Washington as our secretary.” 

“ Oh, Bertha . . . What an angel you are !” 

“Nonsense. Wait till I’ve finished. I am 
going to give you a disagreeable task. I don’t 
know what you will say to it. I want you to 
write to Jack Enderleigh.” 

There was a moment of dead silence. 
“Why?” came the faint query. 

“You owe it to him to tell him the truth. 


284 


A WOMAN IN IT. 


It is the only reparation you can make for the 
wrong you did him. Tell him that you are 

leaving England ... for ever ” 

“ For ever, Bertha ?’' 

“ Does it sound ‘ a large order,* as we say ? 
Well, it will be for many years, I hope.** 

“ May I tell Jack of you ?’* 

*‘Not my name,** she said eagerly. “You 
may say you have found a friend, and that she 
is about to embark on a scheme which will 
give you occupation and interest.** 

“ Don't you think it is a pity to awaken his 
remembrance ?** she asked again. 

“No. It is simple justice — to you both. 
Leave a clear record behind you, dear, before 
you take up the burden of life again.** 

“And what is this plan — this scheme?** 
questioned Mrs. Noel Grey. 

“It is a scheme that needs Women to help 
Women. We have begun by helping each 
other. We must continue. Where our sisters 
are friendless, desperate, forsaken — there, 
Nina, lies our country and our work. Yet we 
shall be happy too. Life won't be all drudgery. 
Perhaps in trying to better it for others we 
shall make it brighter and happier for our- 
selves.’* 

“You will have ‘ourselves,* Bertha." 


“ YESr 285 

“ That,” she said, “ is what I have been ex- 
plaining.” 

“ It seems useless to object, you fairly carry 
one away.” 

‘‘ I should like to do it, I confess. Still if 
you will say ‘Yes’ — as a pure formality ” 

And with the “ tear and the smile” so char- 
acteristic of Erin’s daughters, Mrs. Noel Grey 
said it. 


THE END. 


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/iJ 


Authors and Their Works, 


HANDLEY CROSS 

SPORTING NOVELS. 


“Jorrocks” Edition. 

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Thomas Scott, Esq. 

In six 8vo volumes, with numerous illustrations, 

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enthusiast in the sport, and has reflected in his illustrations, with 
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stories. 


J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. 


Authors and Their Works. 


JOHN STRANGE WINTER 

(MRS. ARTHUR STANNARD.) 


Every Inch a Soldier. 

I21I10. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

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J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. 












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